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zorosdimples · 9 months

Text

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?

pairing ༄ zoro x gn!reader

warnings ༄ none! this is the fluffiest of fluff—a bit out of my comfort zone, but it’s good to push your limits (so i’ve been told). you might get a bit of whiplash if you read my previous drabble lol.

word count ༄ 1452

notes ༄ i’m not joking when i say i wrote most of this over a year ago. idk how tending to injuries actually works, but this is the one piece universe, so suspend your belief! i just love the quiet intimacy of caring for someone else, especially when it’s hands on… this is kinda cheesy but i think it’s cute; it’s something of a love letter to one of my faves <3

you climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch, putting your kit down before pulling yourself up into the crow’s nest. labored breaths filled the air, the swordman’s bare back glistening with sweat, his calloused hands balancing an impossibly large weight. you scanned the room, locking in on the bloody bandages piled in the trash can.

sighing, you picked up your kit and padded over to sit on the ground in front of zoro. he didn’t acknowledge your presence—not that you expected him to, as absorbed as he was with his training—and you unpacked your kit, pulling out the necessary supplies. once you finished, you silently watched him continue his exercises, wincing at the way his fresh wounds strained against his movements. you tried to ignore how impressive his rippling muscles looked as they shimmered from exertion.

by the time he put the weight down he guzzled some water and glanced over at you. “what’s all that for?” he asked flatly, gesturing toward your setup. he wiped the water that had dribbled down his chin with the back of his hand, oblivious to the way your eyes heatedly tracked the droplets that fell from his lips to his heaving chest.

you patted the floor in front of you with a smile. “come, sit.”

he eyed you for a moment, seeming to weigh his options, but ultimately complied. he walked over and sat crisscrossed facing you, folding his arms. his steely visage didn’t betray his thoughts.

“no one else bothers me this much,” he grumbled, gaze flickering over to meet yours before returning to your busy hands.

you hoped he didn’t catch the way your fingers trembled when he spoke. “well,” you said, clearing your throat, “someone has to keep an eye on you. also, chopper is afraid to come up here and incur your wrath,” you added, half-jokingly.

zoro snorted in response, a small smile on his lips. “so, you’re the doctor’s assistant now?”

you shook your head with a chuckle. “scooch a little closer,” you said, turning to pick up a towel then shifting your weight so you were propped up on your knees. he obeyed with a grunt. you raised your head to assess his wounds, inhaling sharply when you saw the damage up close. his eye was closed, a slight scowl gracing his features.

“anything wrong?” zoro asked, eye still shut. you sighed in response, dipping the towel in a bowl of water before raising it to wipe the sweat off his face and chest.

one of the sunbeams that filtered through the windows sliced across his angular face, a glowing gash that highlighted his long green lashes and a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose—something you had never noticed before since they blended in with his tanned skin.

you cleaned up the sweat, careful to dab zoro’s wounds lightly. mostly superficial cuts and scrapes littered his face, although he did have a nasty gash at his hairline. you brushed back his mint green locks to get a better look at the damage; your fingertips burned hot against his scalp, and you could’ve sworn he shivered at your touch.

maybe it was your imagination.

ignoring the way your heart constricted, you moved the towel down his neck and arms toward his chest. you didn’t miss the freckles and moles that ghosted his collarbone and kissed his shoulders. absorbed in your ministrations, you missed the swordsman’s cracked eye intently watching your hands move down his body, heat nipping at the tips of his ears.

it was difficult to keep your breath steady as you wiped the expanse of his tawny torso, muscles firm underneath your featherlight touches. and while his back didn’t have any major injuries, you were sure to clean it, too. satisfied that you mopped up all the sweat, you took a clean cloth and retraced your movements to dry his skin.

“you need to be more careful,” you said, breaking the heady silence. your voice came out softer than you had anticipated, your nerves getting the better of you. you raised your eyes to meet zoro’s, now open. “your body will eventually give out if you don’t allow it to heal.”

“i don’t have time to heal,” he said simply. “each day brings new enemies even stronger than the last. i can’t stop if i wanna protect my captain and crewmates.”

the weight of his steely gaze forced yours to bow in supplication. his eye held no harshness, but rather resolution. guilt prickled your confidence; zoro was constantly throwing his life on the line for luffy and the crew’s sake—who were you to chastise him?

“we all worry about you,” you murmured, putting the cloth down. you would thank him, but you know he would simply brush it off as his duty, as nothing noteworthy.

you grabbed a pair of gloves and pulled them on your hands. opening a jar of salve that chopper had made specifically for zoro’s injuries, you scooped some out and met his grey eye. “this is a new treatment that chopper created using plants native to the birdie kingdom. he wanted me to tell you that while it’s effective at healing wounds quickly, it has an unpleasant sting.”

“nothin’ i can’t handle,” he smirked.

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a huff. “well, consider yourself warned.” with that, you moved to treat his head wound first. as you pushed his hair back and dabbed the balm on his gash, zoro jerked away from you with a hiss.

your eyes widened in surprise, a litany of apologies rushing from your lips. he held up a large hand to stop your rambling. “’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, sounding decidedly less-than-fine. “just stings a little, s’all.”

you bit your tongue and hummed in response. throwing out an “i told you so” would be rude, although the mirth that sparkled in your eyes wasn’t lost on the swordsman. once he resituated himself, you returned your attention to treating the wound. without thinking, you rested one of your hands on his shoulder, steadying both of you.

zoro’s body shook as he willed himself to remain quiet despite the pain that seared his skin. he hadn’t thought his wounds were bad until that salve had touched him. his mind wandered back to the present, and he went rigid when he felt the soft hand that had settled on his shoulder. he tried not to panic when he realized how close you were to him, the cute way you knit your brows in concentration, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

“there we go,” you said with a proud smile.

you began to lift your hand from zoro’s shoulder, but his arm shot up and he gripped your wrist before you could pull away. frozen in place, you looked back and forth between zoro’s hold and the intense look on his face. the air in the room felt oppressive.

what did i do wrong? did i hurt zoro? is he mad? negative thoughts breezed in and out of your head before his gravelly voice cut off your self-doubt.

“what,” he breathed, “are you doing to me?”

“huh?” your brain couldn’t register the meaning behind his words. “i told you, zoro, i’m just trying to help and—”

he shook his head, knowing he would screw up if he tried to explain himself in words. instead, he slowly peeled the glove—now sticky with salve—off of your hand and tossed it into the trash. he then guided your palm and pressed it against his bare chest, his rough hand wholly encompassing your own. his pleading eye never left yours, and you looked at him in wonder as you felt his heart thump thump thump thump beneath your fingertips.

suddenly, you became aware of how close you were to him. you still knelt in front of the swordsman, your knees flush to his crossed legs. it was like your body turned to wax as you warmed then slowly melted into zoro’s fiery touch, your fingernails carving red crescents into his shoulder and your hand still clutched firmly to his chest. you swallowed, heart in your throat, as he wet his lips.

“i—” he began then abruptly stopped with a wry chuckle, dimples on display for a split second. your gaze slipped down to his lips then went back up to his silvery eye.

you were both silent for a few beats, when you tried, “zoro, i—”

you were interrupted by zoro’s scarred hands coming up to cradle your face before he slowly began to lean toward you. a hopeless moth to his flame, you met his chapped lips in the middle for a blistering kiss.

#zoro x reader #one piece zoro #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro fluff #one piece fic #zoro <3 #༄ kae writes

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megamindsecretlair · 3 months

Text

Mr. Black, Part 6

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), oral (male and fem receiving) , spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, mentions of female anatomy, dumbass reader, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre has an unexpected surprise for you that leads to even more conversations about...whatever the hell this is between you. You do end up loving the surprise and you get a bigger peak inside that gorgeous head of his.

Word Count: 10,614k

A/N: I promise not all of my fics will be this long moving forward! This was the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written and it healed something in me LOL. As an update, I had Covid this past week and I'm just getting my strength back. Please be kinder to your faves! I am over the moon that you enjoy my works and look forward to the next chapter, but let's keep it cute. My family are my opps and do not like to see me happy. If ya'll only knew what I had to endure writing this...These updates will take time. And I'm doing this for free! This is a hobby! I'm not a smut machine. Let's stay mindful of that. To prove you actually read this far, put your fave fruit in the comments! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

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The week between Christmas and New Year’s was a lawless haze spent mostly in Tre’s bed. You hadn’t seen your place all week and it should bother you. There was no mention of it. There was no conversation to be had. He just kept inviting you back to his place and you kept saying yes.

He got you a hygiene kit complete with a Coach bag to put it in. You told him you could just pack something from your place, but he wouldn’t hear of it. You had your very own electric toothbrush sitting on his sink.

Every time you went to the bathroom, you stared at the thing as if it could come alive at any moment. It was a courtesy thing, nothing more. It didn’t mean you were moving in. You were quickly realizing that Tre might’ve lacked proper social skills. With all his big talk, he lacked the cues necessary to clue you into whatever the fuck was going on with him.

He couldn’t possibly think that he could get you a hygiene kit, keep pajamas over - not that you used them much - and you would just smile and wave and move into his fucking house?!

The past week, he had kept you in a near-permanent sex fog. He still ate you out at work, stating that he simply liked the taste of you on his tongue while he dealt with the company hemorrhaging money at an alarming rate. He told you that your sweet taste made dealing with idiot managers worth every solid minute.

He still had you suck him off in the morning, stating that he loved nothing more than pumping you full of him to start your day. He was able to work harder and smarter with empty balls and thoughts of what he was going to do to you later at his place.

There wasn’t enough time to really talk. There was this burning obsession with each other that didn’t seem to let up as the week went on. Every time you finished having sex, you wanted to crawl under his skin and do it all over again. You couldn’t get him out of your system. In between sex marathons, him cooking, and your conversations about interests, there wasn’t enough time to discuss the whole…headband situation.

You sat at your desk presently and your eyes kept flickering towards the front of the building. You couldn’t see much past the desks and chairs. The thought of Miss Headband returning made you ill. You were comfortable with the knowledge that Tre was yours in whatever capacity this was, but uncomfortable that Brianna thought she could walk in whenever she wanted.

What stopped any of his other conquests from walking through the door? Or calling you to set up dick appointments with him? You hadn’t been working for him long but you wouldn't be surprised if he had past assistants schedule such things.

Your nails tapped on your desk. Your jealousy was showing. And it didn’t suit you well to show it at work where anyone could see. You needed to put an end to the uncertainty. If Tre had a black book, he needed to burn it right this second. He wasn’t going to need it anymore.

Panic was a funny thing. Sometimes, it felt like a bubbling pot of oil sludging through your veins. Sometimes, it felt like a thousand tiny insects with wings fluttering beneath your skin. You felt a mixture of both as you checked your mental status.

Maybe Tre was rubbing off on you too much. Your friends had said you were turning distant lately. You usually told them everything, but how did you even begin to describe what the hell this was?

It started off as something hot and naughty between you and your boss. Everyone had that fantasy right? Being railed against an office desk until your eyes were crossing and you were screaming in pleasure?

All your life, you thought there was a schedule and order to these things. You meet a man, you go on a few dates, you explore interests together, and you date some more. You meet the friends and get their stamp of approval. Then it’s the family’s turn. You move in with each other to see if you could cohabit a space together. Perhaps get an animal together to see if you can take care of a living thing as a precursor to kids. Then, there’s some wholly romantic and unique proposal with the help of your friends or family. A wedding, a honeymoon, boom, pop out some kids and build a life together.

This was so fuckin’ backwards, you didn’t know where to start besides him swatting your ass. There have been no dates, just earth-shattering, world-ending orgasms, a few items at his place, and you left in a perpetual state of what-the-fuck?

Order and schedules made sense to you. It kept you on track. This…was messy as hell.

You sighed audibly and rubbed your head. It was too much thinking and it was giving you a fuckin’ headache.

“What’s wrong?”

You yelped and jumped in your seat. The chair went rolling to the left as you looked to the right to see Tre half sitting on your desk. Where the fuck did he come from?

“You scared the hell outta me!” You placed your hand against your chest to see how fast it was going.

“Maybe you should stop daydreaming at work,” he said with that damn smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t daydreaming, I was thinking,” you told him.

He sighed audibly and hung his head. “Nothing good ever comes from you overthinking,” he said.

“Shut up. It’s not overthinking. Logic calms me down,” you said.

His smirk returned. “I can think of something else that’ll calm you down,” he said.

“Shh!” You looked around the empty office. It was lunchtime and sunny outside, so everyone went out to the food trucks to take advantage of the warm weather. Still, you had to be cautious from anyone who might overhear.

You moved to stand up but Tre blocked your path. “Not hungry?” You asked.

Tre smiled and looked off into the distance. He took a few steadying breaths and looked back at you. “Got you on a schedule already,” he said.

Now it was your turn to look away with a goofy grin on your face. His words brought to mind something Brianna mentioned.

“Hey, what did Brianna mean by 'training me’?” You asked.

“I’ll explain all that. First, let’s go. We’re gonna be late,” he said.

“Late for what?” You asked. You turned to your computer, bringing up his schedule. The weekend had been blocked out without you noticing. He had no meetings or calls set up. “What is this?”

You clicked through the change history but Tre put his hand over yours to stop you. “It’s okay, I handled it.”

“Handled it? I’m the one that handles your schedule! When did you do this?” You asked. You literally had one job and you were too distracted this week to notice that he had been shuffling and moving things around.

You tried to picture him being sneaky and dealing with other assistants while he moved meetings. You pictured getting a random call from someone with a voice like his. A voice made for phone sex and your panties were already growing damp thinking about it. Yeah, he could finagle his way through just about anything if he had half a mind.

“Come on!” He grinned and pulled you from your seat. You had just enough time to grab your purse. He held your hand as he pulled you through the empty office. Panic jumbled your nerves. Instead of pulling you to the front of the building where the food trucks were, he pulled you to the back of the building.

You knew there was a back of the building, conceptually, but you didn’t know there was an entrance this way. You were hired in the mix of things and you didn’t get an official tour before diving in and picking up the slack.

There was nobody back here as he swiped his badge and you were let out into a parking lot. It was small, filled with only a few expensive cars.

“You have a private parking area? Ya’ll suck,” you giggled.

Tre tugged you towards his car. You weren’t good with car brands but you were pretty sure it was a Lexus SUV. He opened the door for you and motioned for you to get in.

“What about my car?” You asked.

“I took care of it,” he said with that damn smile.

“What the hell is going on?” You asked. You placed your hands on your hips and faced him completely.

Instead of answering, Tre looked at his watch. “You have about two minutes before the other managers pull in and see you hopping in my car. I’m sure they will have thoughts about it,” he said.

Your fear of being discovered was greater than your need for knowledge. You could needle him in the car. You hopped inside with his help and then he closed the door with instructions to put your seatbelt on. You rolled your eyes and did it, not because he said so, but because it was sensible.

Tre rounded the front of the black truck and hopped in himself. He sighed with a smug smile on his face and started the car. His windows were tinted well past the legal limit. But you had a feeling he just didn’t give a shit.

He pulled out of the parking lot just as a smaller sedan was pulling in. You sank down in the seat but Tre only chuckled at you. Clear of the parking lot, he swiftly pulled onto the freeway.

“Okay, I’m in the car. What the hell is going on?”

“You know, you’re cute as hell when you’re confused. You get a little crinkle in your nose,” he said. He sped up on the mostly clear freeway and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not going to tell me no matter how many times I ask, huh?” You asked.

He grinned and flicked his eyes to you. “Look at you catching on,” he said.

You growled and folded your arms across your chest. You turned away from him as much as you could in the seat and looked outside the window at the passing cars and freeway signs. You could tell that you were heading North but anything could be North.

“I promise you’ll like the surprise,” he said.

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on,” you said.

“I know. I’ll break you of that,” he said.

“Excuse me?” You flipped your head to look at him but he kept his eyes trained on the road. One hand was on the steering wheel and he slowly inched his other hand towards your thigh. He squeezed the bare skin, his pinkie lightly grazing your pink dress.

You hated that your body reacted instantly. Your pussy fluttered and you were going to be damp in a minute thinking about that hand and all the nasty things he’s done so far.

“I don’t repeat myself,” he said.

You could be petty and point out that he’s repeated some things to you. But if he wanted to keep up his little fantasy, you weren’t going to cure him of it. As much as you liked to test his boundaries, you still had handprints on your ass from the last time you tried to get cute.

You focused on just being able to breathe while his thumb rubbed your left thigh. Soft music played in the car, low enough to not be annoying, but high enough to get the general rhythm.

The sights turned more industrial as you headed towards…LAX? Was he taking you to the fucking airport?

He got off the ramp for it, circling around, and headed towards the entrance on Century. He joined the congested traffic as he took the ramp to departures.

You huffed in disbelief. “You have to be joking. Where are we going? I haven’t packed, I haven’t got any supplies, I haven’t told anyone. I can’t–”

“I had a lovely chat with your friend, Ka’ron, the other day. She’s a little mad you didn’t tell her about me. I’ll admit, I was a little hurt too,” he said. He talked as he maneuvered around the insane traffic at LAX. It was like people lost all sense of decorum at the airport. People weaved in and out with little regard to who was behind or beside them. They had no idea which terminal to get to or realize that they couldn’t park at the curb forever.

Buses and shuttles ran through the inner road of the airport. You still hated that they changed the flow of traffic. It seemed much more dangerous to have you stand at the outer curb to be picked up. And the construction for the incoming train was plain annoying.

“You talked to Ka’ron?!” You screeched. Too many questions flowed through your head. How did he get her number? What did he even tell her? What the hell was this?

“I told her that I wanted to surprise you with a trip and after she got done laughing at the surprise part, she helped me pack your bags this week.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Your friend was going to murder you. After she got done begging for every last scrap of detail she could get out of you, she was going to murder you for not telling her sooner.

“You have crossed so many–”

“I also bought you new travel bags. I didn’t care that they didn’t match, but they were really raggedy,” he said. He pulled into long-term parking, grabbing a ticket from the kiosk, and the metal arm raised. He pulled in and began the search for a good spot.

Gurgles of sounds escaped your throat but you couldn’t form a single sentence. Were you having a heart attack? Aneurysm? Were your blood vessels popping at this very instant?

“She helped me find your passport,” he said. He turned and backed into the parking space.

In the middle of your meltdown, you could appreciate the slip of skin at his neck as he looked backwards to park. It was somehow hotter that he didn’t solely rely on the back-up camera. You’d dreamt of that open collar enough times to call yourself a stalker at this point.

“Passport?!” Where the hell was he taking you? You weren’t going to say no to a free fucking trip. You weren’t that dumb. It was…the lack of consideration that bugged you. The fact that he’d been planning and plotting while he had you twisted up in all kinds of shapes no human body was meant to be contorted into.

Or perhaps…it was a control thing. You were without an anchor or foothold in this. You didn’t see this coming at all. You had no say over where you were going, when you were leaving, when your friends would know about him, what they would know about him, what you would wear, or do. It was beyond unnerving.

Tre shut off the car and got out, leaving no room for you to ask a thousand questions. You were still in your office attire for fuck’s sake? Not the most comfortable traveling outfit. There was no way in hell you were going through TSA in fucking heels.

He rounded the car and opened your door for you, letting you out with a smug wink. He really didn’t see anything wrong with whisking you off to some exotic place without a conversation first. Had there been even a tiny ounce of communication beforehand, you wouldn’t be quite so shocked and pissed.

Next, Tre went to the trunk and lifted the door, pulling out a rose gold London Fog suitcase and a complementary Coach duffle bag. Your mouth dropped open. It was so gorgeous, you drooled a bit as he pulled out his own black suitcase and duffle bag. He moved both to the side and then handed you a more personal bag.

“Move your things from your purse to that. We’ll put your purse in the trunk,” he said. You stared at him like he was some alien with four heads.

He smiled and stepped closer to you, pulling you by the hips flush against him. You refused to give him any indication that this shit was okay. But he kissed your forehead, then your cheek, and pecked your lips.

“Trust me. It’ll be good,” he said.

You pressed your lips together and decided to surrender for the time being. Your boss…lover…boyfriend…was taking you somewhere and you didn’t have to lift a finger. There were worse arguments to be had.

The personal bag looked like a smaller version of the duffle. You ran your hands over the soft fabric filled with tiny C’s and then opened it. Inside, there was your Kindle, various meds you may need, head scarf, sleep mask, and ear pods. There was also a brand new matching wallet that you transferred your ID and cards to. This whole thing was absurd but you let yourself enjoy it.

Once done, he took your purse and placed it in the trunk in an innocuous box and closed it. “We’ll change in the lounge,” he said.

Your eyes bugged out again but he wasn’t going to answer a single fucking question so you let him grab your bags and walked over to the bridge connecting you to the terminal. There, he wheeled your bags to the check in counter. He pulled out both of your passports and handed them over to the agent.

She was an attractive Black woman with her hair pulled into a bun. She openly ogled your man so you moved next to him and peered over his shoulder. “Make sure I have the window seat, baby. You know I like to look outside when we take off,” you said and grinned at him, not looking at the woman at all.

Tre smirked down at you. He placed his hand on the small of your back and leaned down to kiss your cheek and then whispered in your ear. “You’re so sexy when you’re jealous.”

The woman cleared her throat and finished taking the necessary steps to check in your suitcases with a much better, more professional attitude. You made sure to smile and thank her while he grabbed your duffle bags and personal bag from the counter. He scooped up your passports and tickets and tucked them into his bag. Then, he grabbed your hand and you moved on to the security line.

Getting through that was a headache all on its own, but once through, Tre pulled you towards a lounge. You knew they existed, you just never had the luxury of being inside one. It was quiet with muted lighting and a bar area where people sat for drinks and the latest game on TV.

As he said, there were bathrooms and he told you there was a travel outfit in your bag. You stood in the fancy bathroom, half-giggling like a madwoman as you changed out of your dress into more comfortable clothing. You now had on black leggings, tennis shoes, a loose gray shirt, and a light gray sweater. That had been most of the bulk in your duffle, so you had room to fold up your dress. The heels were a bit of a problem, but that was okay. If they got messed up, you were making him buy you a new pair. And you’d only feel slightly guilty about it.

After dressing, you went out into the lounge area. You skipped over Tre twice, not because you didn’t recognize him, but because you were surprised to see him outside of formal wear. Sure, you’d seen him lounge at home in his briefs, or the pajamas he wore to cook, but you had never seen him out and about in his element.

He wore black, of course, but it was a black Henley T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black jeans, black boots, and his glasses. He looked good enough to fucking eat and you had to stop just outside the door to admire how hot he was.

He was looking down at his phone so he hadn’t seen you walk out. But as if you were linked, he looked up at that moment and grinned. You walked over to the bar area and he grabbed your bags from you.

He grabbed your hands and opened them so he could take in your outfit. “You look so fucking gorgeous,” he said.

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you said.

He held out the bar stool for you and helped you settle in. There was already a strawberry margarita sitting there for you and you sipped it, letting the frozen treat relax you. “Our plane leaves in an hour so you have time to finish,” he said.

“Any hint to where we’re going?” You asked.

He shrugged and sipped on his whiskey. “You’ll see at the gate,” he said.

“The only thing you can’t hide from me,” you said.

He grinned. “I could if I really wanted to. Make you wear your earphones the whole trip.”

“I can see the board,” you said.

“Not if I didn’t want you to,” he said.

You threw up your hands. “You know how insane this is right? Calling my friend, planning this behind my back, ambushing me in the middle of the work day? Where do people think you are?”

“I am on my way to a conference for potential clients. Since I’m such an awesome boss, I gave you the weekend to spend with your family,” he said.

“No one’s going to buy that,” you said with a giggle. You wouldn’t buy that shit if you heard it.

“They have no proof to the contrary. I know my methods are off, but I know a few ways you can thank me on the plane. I always wanted to join the mile high club,” he said and eyed your outfit. “Maybe we should’ve gone with something easier to take off.”

You slapped his thick arm. “Not on your life,” you said. The tips of your ears burned just thinking of it. Those tiny ass bathrooms ensured there was no way two people could fit. And you were not sucking him off in first class. He was too damn big for any other seating.

He chuckled and sipped more of his drink. You talked more with him pointedly ignoring your questions until he looked at his watch. He grinned, that wide smile melting your insides, as he grabbed your things and took your hand.

The casual way he touched you, openly, in the airport where everyone was anonymous was a balm to your spirit. You didn’t know you needed this…validation of the two of you. You didn’t care what people thought of you to the extent that you were together. You were more concerned about office politics. If you wanted to be taken seriously, you couldn’t let the office gossips think you were sleeping your way to the top.

Out in the open like this, you felt excited to be the one holding his hand while he guided you through the chaos of the airport. He walked leisurely to your gate. You frantically searched the boards for destinations. These were all domestic flights to the East Coast. Atlanta, New York, Chicago…

He stopped at a gate going to Miami. You eyed him as he took up a place near the gate. They were beginning to call for your group.

“Now boarding first class to Jamaica, with a stop in Miami. Now boarding…”

“Jamaica?!” You whispered to him and he grinned down at you.

He squeezed your hand as he moved you in line, handing the agent your tickets, and then pulling you down the tunnel. You had no room to talk as he placed your bags in the overhead bin and you settled into the nicer seats in first class. For once, your big ass fit comfortably in the seat with enough foot room to swing your feet.

Shit, after flying like this, you might have to do it all the time and leave your friends in economy. You were all going to the same place, you didn’t have to sit next to each other. The flight attendant asked if you wanted a drink as more people got onboard. You accepted a tequila neat and settled into your seat, wiping everything down with cleanser wipes you found in your personal bag. Your girl really fucking knew you.

“Bougie looks good on you,” he said as he watched you.

“Shut up! I’m gonna enjoy the fuck out of this. When are we coming back?” You asked.

“Tuesday night,” he said.

You couldn’t help looking outside, looking at the people who passed. You didn’t want to contain your excitement. As the boarding ended and the plane began to taxi down the runway, Tre settled in his seat and tapped your arm to get your attention.

“Why haven’t you told your friends about us?” He asked.

He wanted to discuss that now? “And say what? ‘Hey guys, what’s new with me? Well, my boss has been blowing my back out for the past few weeks?’” You whispered so everybody in first class wouldn’t hear your business.

He scrunched up his face. “It’s not official until your friends know. And I’m not just your boss,” he said.

You threw up your hands. “What else am I supposed to call you?”

“Your boyfriend?” Tre asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Boyfriend! That’s what you are?” You asked.

The captain started speaking about preparing for liftoff, so you were spared a few moments as the flight attendants came around to collect trash and remind you about the trays.

The plane took off and Tre never stopped looking at you. As it ascended, he leaned in so he could be heard over the roar of the engines and mounting pressure.

“That’s exactly what I am. And I want you to tell them about me,” he said.

You looked at him. He was serious about this shit. You didn't know what to say or what to call him. You guessed it was the logical step after declaring “you’re mine” while hopping on his dick. You licked your lips and nodded. “You’re my boyfriend. I’ll tell them when we land,” you said.

He smiled and sat back in his seat as if it had been eating at him. The tension left his shoulders. When the plane leveled out, the flight attendants came around with warm peanuts and drinks. You got some water to balance the drinks you’d had.

The plane ride to Miami was comfortable now that Tre decided to relax. You were able to joke with him about the book he chose to read while you whipped out your Kindle and awkwardly told him about the filthy book you were reading. You had a brief layover once you got to Miami. You collected shot glasses for your friends.

The plane ride to Jamaica was smooth. You were flying into the night but the sight as you descended still stole your breath. The water was a mix of cerulean and true blue, with scores of seaweed you could see from the plane. The island didn’t look all that big flying overhead, but the hills were wide and varied in height.

The plane had to turn to land into the small ass runway and you were half concerned as the captain easily guided the plane onto it. You rolled into the gate and Tre helped bring your bags down.

The airport itself smelled like Shea butter and breezy sandy beaches and you inhaled deeply. You had traveled all over the world at this point with your girls. Hitting up spots in Europe and Mexico, but there was something so amazing about landing in a place with people that looked like you.

Everywhere you went, there was another Black face to greet you. There were fans up high blowing hot wind at you but to you, it was perfect. As you got off the plane, there was a man standing there with Tre’s name. He walked you past the long line to the left for regular people.

That line was long and looked unbearably hot as people stood there trying to get through customs. You assumed the young man was a driver with his company shirt and shorts on. You never saw anything like it. He guided you through the lane to the right, going down a ramp, and turning into a much shorter customs line. The agent at the gate checked in your passports, stamping them, asking routine questions.

Through, the driver stood off to the side while you waited for the bags. There were gorgeous Jamaican women with red outfits on helping people find their carousel and telling you to settle in for a long wait because they were slow.

The accents were the best part. It sounded like coming home. A deep, ancient knowing made you feel at home here than you ever did in the States. Tre grabbed your bags from the carousel since they came out among the first bags. The driver took it from him and led you out of the busy airport.

There were just…Black people everywhere. For once, you didn’t feel like an oddball out when you traveled. Seeing Black faces was the norm. The driver took you through the final screening, handing over a form Tre filled out while on the plane. Then, you were out of the baggage claim area where even more people congregated. Bus drivers were trying to find people to scoop up, taxi drivers did the same, and there were so many guides waving signs for tours.

Outside, the air was balmy but comfortable and the driver led you to his car. There was nothing fancy about it, but you climbed in all the same while Tre talked with him. Then you were off.

You had to keep pinching yourself. Jamaica was gorgeous. The rolling grassy hills were interrupted by pockets of communities. You passed by signs of colonization. Plazas, houses, Popeyes. You giggled and pointed it out to Tre who just smiled like you were the most adorable thing on the planet.

It still blew your mind that he wanted to be your boyfriend. It seemed so high school the way you felt about it. But it felt right so you decided to go with the flow. By the time you made it to the adults only resort, you were absolutely tired. Tre told you to sit in the waiting area while he handled everything.

In no time, you were showering in your suite still pinching yourself that this was actually happening. You had dinner, buffet style, and enjoyed part of that evening’s entertainment. There was live music and a dancing troupe that you half paid attention to. Now, you just wanted to crawl into bed but you still had so many questions.

You let Tre see your text message as you texted your friends that you arrived safely with your boyfriend. You had landed and your phone dinged immediately upon turning on. Ka’ron told your entire friend group that not only were you getting regular dick, you had been whisked away on a fancy trip on some real movie type shit.

But Tre didn’t look satisfied with what you said. So you made him take a photo with you with the amazing view in the background. You confirmed that he was a sex god and you would give all the nasty details when you got back. He was much happier about the photo and asked you to send it to him.

He was so…domestic and it was freaking you the fuck out. You didn’t have the energy to bombard him with millions of questions. He tucked you into bed and then you were drifting off to sleep, trying to remember everything you wanted to ask him.

The next day, after breakfast, you took a look around the resort and everything it had to offer. There were multiple pools and a small beach area where you could go and relax. The resort had towels and pool equipment for you, but it was tied to your room number. If you didn’t return it when you were done, then it would be charged to your room.

Ka’ron didn’t steer you wrong with the outfits she chose for the trip. All light, lounge wear that fit easily over skimpy bathing suits your friends made you buy. You had no intention of actually wearing them. But that was all she packed and the look on Tre’s face was worth it.

He was content to walk around like everything was fine, but your questions were burning you from the inside out. Worse than the damn sun. This was their milder season so you knew it could have been much, much worse. But the UV index was much higher so you stayed spraying on your sunscreen.

You held hands and stopped at some of the gift shop areas spread around. There was an ice cream shop that sold coffee and meat pies. You got ice cream while Tre went for coffee. But his entire focus was on you licking your spoon.

You began to do it deliberately slowly, licking every inch. You put the end in your mouth and slowly withdrew it while keeping your eyes on him. Your body heated up from the way his eyes were trained on your lips. He caught every movement and swipe of your tongue across your lips to lick it up.

Tre grabbed your ice cream cup and threw it away. “Hey! I wasn’t finished!” You complained.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he said. The ice cream was “free” due to the all-inclusiveness of the resort package but you weren’t going to split hairs. Here, you and Tre were always on the same page.

Your body responded to him like it had never done in the past with previous lovers. You felt him on a cellular level as your swimsuit grew damp from your arousal. He pulled you to the elevator and your room, barely opening the door before pulling you inside and slamming you up against the door.

His lips crashed into yours, desperate and needy. Moans escaped you even as his beard tickled your face. You just wanted more. You pulled at his shirt and pants, undressing him just as he undressed you. He turned you around, pressing your chest against the door. He kissed your neck as he untied your top and lowered your bottoms.

Your chest was still pressed to the door so your top didn’t fall just yet. Tre’s warm hand on your back prevented you from moving. He stepped closer and you felt the heat of his chest scald your back.

You trembled in the doorway. You wanted to see him and touch him too. But he only slipped his right hand around your hips to spread your pussy lips apart. You hissed as his fingers connected with your clit.

You felt him smile against your neck. “Already wet for me, little one?”

Your head thumped against the door as he worked your wetness around your clit, diving into your pussy to gather more of your arousal and spread it around. He toyed with your clit, rolling around his fingers, and flicking it just the way you liked.

“Oh, shit, Sir,” you moaned against the door. Your cheek was pressed against it as he rubbed his erection against your ass. He nibbled on your ear, licking away any hints of pain. His left hand came up to grab your titty. He finally let the fabric fall as he pinched and rolled your nipple in time with his fingers on your clit.

“I want the neighbors next door to hear you screaming and call the front desk,” he whispered in your ear.

Pinpricks of arousal traveled up and down your body. You could barely stay standing as that particular image flashed in your mind. “I want you to explain that it was just some enthusiastic play time and nothing to be concerned about.”

Your moans were pathetic and whiny as you raised up on tip toes trying to escape his fingers. But he only pressed into you further, pressing you against the cold door. You scratched at the wooden door. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to help you as you cried out and the orgasm ripped through you like a thunderstorm. You were whipped about in a frenzy as the power of it stole your breath away.

You cried as you calmed down. Tre withdrew his fingers and panted against your neck as if he had just gotten done fucking you. He audibly smacked his lips as he tasted you on his fingers and moaned as he licked every last digit.

He roughly turned you again, slamming his lips against yours in a brutal kiss. You took control, kissing him and pushing at his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow at you as you dropped to your knees.

His dick twitched as you palmed him, running your fingers over him once before opening your mouth and sucking him inside. You licked him just like you did that ice cream spoon. Slowly and sensually and maintaining eye contact. He groaned, licked his lips.

“Oh, that’s how we doing it?” He asked. He sat back against the wall and you adjusted with him. Then you continued teasing him and sucking him into your mouth. You played with his balls and he moaned low in his throat. You rolled them with one hand while keeping your other hand braced against his thigh.

You licked him, running your tongue across his tip. “Mm, suck me down,” he said. But you ignored him, continuing to kiss your way up and down his shaft. He chuckles were stuttered and he shook his head.

“I’ll remember this when it’s your turn,” he promised darkly. You knew he was going to pay you back when you started teasing him. But you just liked the sound of him moaning for you even more. You sucked him all the way down, trying to fit as much of him in your mouth as you could. Then you started sucking on him like he liked. Rough, bruising, bullying your mouth with his dick.

“Unf, that’s it. That’s it right there,” he coached while he threw his head back and groaned. He released himself and you swallowed every drop. He took a few deep breaths before picking you up and bringing you to the bed. He spread your legs apart and looked his fill at your dripping pussy.

“Wait! Fuck!” You didn’t need a break but you did need a tiny breather. You had been out in the sun all day walking and enjoying the day. But the feral gleam in that man’s eyes had you slightly worried that you were in danger.

“Tre,” you said, trying to get a handle on yourself. It wasn’t normal to want to throw common sense through the window and have him fuck your brains out. Right?

“The fuck did you just call me?” He asked. His deep, rough voice turned even darker as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He slapped your pussy and you reared up, trying to scoot away from him.

He slapped it a few more times, each one stinging more than the last. The sting gave way to a burning coil of heat that had you moaning and moving your hips for more. You hated that he turned you into exactly what you didn’t want to be, a sex doll. Well, hell, there were worse things to be while underneath him.

You stammered as you tried to think past the unbridled lust and need.

“What’s my name?” He asked. He landed another smack against your pussy. You only grew more wet. The wet slaps were getting louder and filthier and he noticed. He didn’t wait long for you to respond before continuing to slap at your pussy until your legs were shaking.

“S-Sir,” you moaned.

“What is it?” He asked. He tilted his head and you looked at him through that sex fog you’d grown accustomed to this past week. You could barely think of your answer, let alone make your mouth move, as he slammed two fingers inside you.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. Your hands gripped and let go of the sheets around you on the king sized bed. He pumped the fingers in and out of you, moving them around to feel every inch of your soaked walls. You moaned and whined, your needy sounds somehow turning you on even more.

“What’s my name, little one?” You asked.

“Sir! Sir!” You yelled out, cried out, in time for your orgasm to kick in, making you shiver in time with the frost from the AC. You shook, out of control, thighs trembling and knees buckling. If you were standing, you’d have collapsed to the floor.

Tre scooted in, making sure your legs couldn’t close. “Remember our safe word?”

You nodded dumbly. “Candy cane,” you muttered.

He dropped his head to your belly, placing soft kisses there. “Only you can turn me into a fucking animal,” he whispered against your skin. You giggled as he continued to attack your plump belly with kisses.

He licked the swell of your breasts and moaned at your taste. You reached out and grabbed his dick, played with the precum between your bodies. He moaned and ground his hips into you, rocking with every swipe. You flicked your thumb across the tip, flicking all that pre against the tip of his dick. He sighed and groaned under your touch, latching on to your nipple and suckling you.

It began to dry up so he pulled away and dropped to his knees. “Please, Sir. I need you,” you said.

He took off his glasses and tossed them onto the bed. You grabbed them and placed them on your chest to keep them safe. There was a bite of cold from the metal but it quickly warmed. You didn’t want to get lost gripping the white sheets in desperation and accidentally crush them. Tre watched the movement and his eyes turned darker still, a thousand yard stare entering his gaze.

Sweat gathered at his brow, rolling down the side of his sweet ebony skin and sliding into his beard. His breathing was erratic as he lowered against your pussy lips and drew your legs over his shoulders.

His fingers dug into a deep massage of the back of your thighs as he nosed through your wet slit. You bit your lip and gyrated your hips, unable to control yourself from moving. He suckled one of your pussy lips into his mouth, pulling to the point of pain and you cried out.

You had no idea how you were going to survive another one but you weren’t going to tap out. You needed him just as badly as he needed you. Needed this. This was the only time you felt like you were on the same page. The only time you felt connected, mind to mind.

He moaned, inhaling your scent and swiping his tongue out. You were still so sensitive from your earlier orgasms that you twitched with every pass. The massage on your thighs already had your back arching off of the bed, but when he finally dived in and wrapped his sexy lips around your clit, you were crying out and clutching his head.

“Oh shit!” You moaned. This was different. This was him trying to prove something. Or earn something. He suckled on you, hard, pulling waves of pleasure from you and making you whine and groan and scream to the sky. Perhaps he would get his wish and the front desk would be calling you any minute, asking if everything was okay.

No, everything was not fucking okay. You were getting the life sucked out of you and it was bordering on painful. It felt too fucking good as he licked and moaned his way in between your legs. His tongue speared in and out of you, mimicking how he was going to fuck you. One of his hands disappeared from your thighs and you felt him groan and tug on himself.

“That’s my job, you know,” you managed to breathe out.

He huffed against your pussy, rolling his tongue around your clit in small, tight circles that made your eyes cross. His tugs grew rougher and you panted to get enough oxygen to form a thought.

“That’s mine,” you said before succumbing to another orgasm. This was brutal and unforgiving. It blinded and deafened you. Sweat gathered everywhere. Pooled in the crevices of your skin. Your thighs locked his head in and he kept going, kept working his jaw to wring every last bit of it out of you.

Your knuckles hurt from clutching the sheets so hard as you came and came, wave upon wave of pleasure soaking the sheets beneath you. Tre licked up everything you gushed out. You twitched with every pass, too overstimulated.

Your cry was small and weak and he finally stopped, kissing up your thighs and over your belly. His hands roamed your body, touching every inch he could. He rubbed feeling back into your limbs, anchoring you in place and bringing you back to the world of the living.

Your essence dripped nastily from his beard and he swiped a hand down to work it in. “I like when you get possessive. You said this was yours?” Tre stood over you, peering down at you. He tugged on his thick erection and it jerked as you struggled to your elbows to hold yourself up.

It looked fucking painful the way it strained away from him, veiny, and begging for you. You licked your lips. Fuck, you wanted to taste him. Wanted him to feel just as good as he made you.

“Mine,” you huffed out.

He swiped his hand through your slopping juices and coated his dick with it, rubbing himself and groaning as he looked into your eyes. “One day, I’ma paint your belly with my cum and see how many paintings I can make.”

Your pussy clenched sharply and you moaned at the mental image. You needed him to do that, like right now. Something on your face made him grin and huff a laugh. He gripped your legs and tugged you closer, ass half-hanging off the bed.

“I like the idea of stuffing you more. Fucking my cum into you and painting your insides with everything I can give you,” his rubbed the top of your thighs and your hips. His hands were always deliciously callused and it worked at turning your body into jelly.

“I want everything,” you said. You gave him puppy eyes as your voice turned soft and girly, small with need.

His hand went to your face as he leaned over you. Your sweaty bodies rubbed together and you moaned, pulling him closer by his hips. He watched you rub against him, grabbing his ass with one hand and pulling him into you.

Your head was deliciously empty. You were operating on basic instinct. You just wanted him inside of you. You just wanted to be connected to him. Claimed by him. He moved his hips, rubbing his fat dick against your folds. You were trying to move him inside of you but he was too big for all of that. He’d have to be guided in.

“You want this dick, little one?” He asked.

The pet name was like a dose of dopamine that traveled from your brain to the tips of your toes. It relaxed you further, making you smile goofily at him.

“I want that dick, Sir,” you moaned.

He pulled you by the chin for a sweet, tender kiss that made your eyes water. He used his other hand to guide him inside you. That was anything but tender. He shoved inside and your mouth dropped open.

He groaned as he looked at you and began to pump his hips at a fast, punishing pace. You couldn’t breathe. You would probably pass out in a second. Your mouth flopped like a fish as he found a spot deep inside you already. You felt full and connected just like you wanted, getting closer to him every time he was inside you.

“Breathe, little one. I don’t want you passing out on me,” he said against your lips. He kissed you as if to give you the very breath you desperately needed. You gasped and sucked in as much air as you could while he was currently stealing it from your body.

Fuck, you felt electric. On top of the world. You felt like you could do anything now that he was inside you. You rolled your head, unable to choose a position to hold and keep it. He felt too fucking good pumping into you.

Your arms trembled from trying to hold yourself up but it was important to you to stay like this. Stay close like this. Your head was bent towards his. His lips were pressing sweet kisses to your forehead and cheeks. You returned his sweet kisses so at odds with how he was fucking you.

And make no mistake, this was pure, animalistic fucking. He was rutting inside of you. “Fuck,” he moaned. “Feel so fucking good.”

You clenched around his dick. His moans made you greedy for more. You felt invincible. Power drunk. You rendered a powerful man like him speechless and sloppy as his hips jerked against you.

He stopped to adjust himself, lifting one of your legs higher and then he set to work again. You grabbed his forearms and held on, looking into each other’s eyes, as your moans matched. Your face started to contort with a rising orgasm.

“Mhm, let that shit go. Let me feel you flooding this dick. Get that dick wet for me,” he cooed.

“Sir, Sir,” you moaned. Your nails dug into his arms as you leaned your head back and it finally overtook you. “Ouue, fuuuuck, babbyyy,” you moaned as you came. Your body convulsed on his dick, flooding him just the way he wanted with your slick.

“Fuck, I feel it. Feelin’ that shit,” he groaned. He hung his head as you closed your eyes. Stars exploded behind your eyes. You closed them tightly, trying to survive this. Trying to survive him and his body.

His own orgasm was ripped from him, soaking you in his cum. You felt it pulsing inside of you, pumping load after load. His hips still snapped inside of you, fucking it even deeper. You held on, your head against the bed and flopping from side to side as you cried and moaned, shaking on his dick.

Tre panted and groaned, his hips slowing down. Fuck, you were definitely going to feel this shit later. He dropped against your shoulder, off to the side and careful to avoid his glasses on your chest. He licked and kissed on your neck as he panted and recovered.

You messily sucked in air. He’d already seen you in a bonnet and shower cap, you were out of dignities to spare. You massaged the back of his neck while he laid there. He groaned, tension leaving his body in visible waves.

He softened inside of you and slowly pulled out. He leaned back into standing, so he could open your legs and watch his cum spill out. He licked his lips as if he still wanted to play with you but you were both too fucking tired to do anything but huff and look towards the ceiling.

He flopped beside you, wiping sweat from his brow. You yawned, but he told you not to fall asleep.

Not to fall asleep? How could you not? Your poor vagina was begging you for a break and he wasn’t giving an inch.

You heard him flittering around the suite. You distantly heard water running and then he was running a warm towel between your legs. You hissed at the contact, the soreness, the desperation finally leaving your bones for the time being.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered as he cleaned you up. He disappeared again and then he was back, picking you up and scooting you further up the bed. Somehow, he produced a tray of fresh fruit and made you sit up to eat and drink the water that was also on the tray.

“Where did this come from?” You asked.

“I sent for it while I was cleaning myself off. I think you dozed off,” he said. He had a proud grin on his face and you rolled your eyes. Yes, yes, we all knew he was a sex god capabale of fucking you to sleep.

You nodded and opened your mouth while he popped a strawberry in. The fruit was delicious and refreshing after something so intense. The last thing you wanted was to eat or drink. But he pointed out that you needed something besides your light breakfast and ice cream.

You were sitting against the headboard, letting the coolness ease your feverish skin. Your legs were tucked in and he closed the distance, sitting as close as possible to you while staying in front of you.

“I owe you some answers. But first, I want to say that this was an apology trip and fucking,” he said.

“Apology?” Shit, you really couldn’t think. Your thoughts were…nonexistent.

“I owe you an apology for not letting Brianna know that we were done. That she couldn’t just walk into the office whenever she felt like anymore. We ran in the same circles and shared the same tastes. I like my women to be a little submissive in the bedroom. Tying them up, controlling their orgasms, the whole bit. That’s what she meant by training. She thought I trained you to call me, Sir.”

He hadn’t, not really. It was a default to call your bosses Ma’am or Sir or whatever they preferred to be called unless they gave you permission to call them by their name. A holdover from your old school grandparents to teach you manners. Tre terrified you in the beginning, you had honestly been too afraid to call him anything else.

He told you more about how he usually got with his women. He found that he was into the whole scene life from his time experimenting in college. He didn’t “do” relationships. In every sense of the word, you were his first real relationship. He was so focused on getting things together, he skipped over a dozen or so steps and just wanted you by his side.

It was…sweet and started to answer a lot of fucking questions about him.

“I knew that I fucked up with the Brianna thing, I heard how she was speaking to you. We spent the lunch hour talking about how we were over whether she liked it or not. She kept asking what made you so special. And I just kept telling her everything. Everything made you special.”

Your eyes were starting to tear up so you bit your lip to keep from making them fall. He was being so damn sweet and open, it was tearing you to pieces.

He looked away, looked down at your legs. His hands idly rubbed your calf as he talked more. “I knew I needed to make it up to you beyond just saying sorry or taking you to dinner. I needed you to know I’m serious,” he said.

You reached out and caressed his cheek, tugging on his beard. “Trust me, I know you’re serious,” you said with a giggle.

He shook his head. “I know I ambushed you with this. But there’s still so much I don’t know about you. I heard you talking to Ka’ron one day and knew she was the main one to ask about this. When she said she never heard of me, I will admit, that hurt.”

He said as much back at the airport. You dropped your hand to his, to the one drawing circles on your calf. You squeezed his hand and looked into his open, brown eyes. “I’m not ashamed of you. I didn’t know how to explain it. You’re still my boss,” you said.

“I’m not just your boss,” he said.

“No, but…sometimes you push forward and there’s never a conversation in between. Like you decide all these things in this…relationship but you don’t tell it to me. You leave ‘me’ out of the relationship and that’s no way to be together. I need that conversation to ground me. I’m not a mind reader.”

“I can’t help it. It feels like I’m always trying to gauge whether you have one foot in or one foot out. I feel like…I have to catch you by surprise,” he said.

That was fair. You had a history of running and being scared. You were constantly running from situations that were too real, too honest. You hated that you weren’t always seen as the “fun, uncomplicated” girlfriend. When guys pushed for more, you were the first out of the door and onto the next one. Over and over, ready to bolt at the first sign of something being real.

“I am in. I am yours. I am not going anywhere,” you said. “I promise to talk to you first if I ever feel like bolting. But that’s just it! I don’t feel like bolting with you.”

You still felt panicked sometimes, like you couldn’t breathe with the mounting pressure and knowledge that all of this could come crashing down on your head. That everyone would find out and snicker and laugh you out of the office. That Tre would realize that he was dating someone so far beneath his league, it was laughable.

“I feel like you’re going to realize we’re not on the same level,” you admitted.

“We’re not. You’re so far out of my league, I don’t know why you’re here,” he said.

You looked at him, waiting for him to laugh or yell, “Gotcha!” It never came. He was fucking serious. The realization made you look at him like he was crazy.

“Get the fuck out,” you said and shook your head, laughing.

“I’m very serious,” he said. You felt like you knew him by now. He didn’t “do” humor that much either. He made you laugh and you had fun watching comedy specials together, but for the most part, he was deadly serious.

“You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met. You’re smart, funny, and you can talk about so much shit I never heard about. I feel like I have to shower you with gifts and trips to make you like me,” he said.

You pushed at his chest. “You’re so full of shit and I’m not falling for it. I’m not after your money!”

“I know,” he said with that shit-eating grin you’re so fond of. “I check the statements. You haven’t used my card once. What’s up with that?”

You threw up your hands. “Did Brianna ever get a card?” You asked. You couldn’t look at him while you asked that question. You didn’t want to compare yourself to Lil’ Miss Headband but you needed to know.

“You are the only one I’ve ever trusted my money to,” he said. He brought your hand to his lips.

You sighed quietly, loving to hear that. You’d just about die if it turned out that he gave every little woman he slept with a card.

“Sounds like we’re both harboring shit instead of talking,” you said.

He nodded. “We promised honesty from here on out, yeah?” He asked.

You nodded, popping a grape into your mouth. “Total honesty. No matter how scared we are or how much it hurts.”

Tre sucked his teeth and fought you for a piece of cheese. “Ain’t nobody scared,” he said.

You laughed and called him a liar and continued to talk a few things out. He didn’t mind reassuring you over and over that you were the only one he’d really been with. You still found it hard to believe, you had eyes.

His ego needed no stroking as he confirmed that there were always women after him but it was hard to tell if they wanted him or his money. He had no problem treating his lady, but when it was expected and not appreciated, it got old fast. You respected it. You’d still have a hard time believing it though.

You spent the rest of the weekend, much more relaxed that you didn’t have the weight of Brianna hanging over your head. You were able to swim and venture out into Jamaica to a local shopping place with women selling wares. A lot of it was the same thing from stall to stall and you felt bad having to tell a lot of them no. Tre was patient and let you get however many souvenirs you wanted for your friends.

You spent New Year’s with him inside of you, making you beg for mercy until your voice gave out and your body quaked. You got your kiss at midnight. It was sloppy and wet and perfect.

Unfortunately, you had to return home to a million calls from your friends and family. Cat was out of the bag officially. You made sure that Tre knew it was all his fault to which he only grinned and asked which house you were visiting first. But now that you were back in sunny California, a pit gnawed in your belly.

You didn’t know how to broach the subject. You had planned to tell him when you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off last week, but then the trip threw you for a loop.

He brought you to your place, after you had to practically grab the steering wheel and make him drive you to your place and not his. You made sure he knew that you weren’t trying to leave him, you just had things to check on and he was perfectly capable of coming to your place. Unless he’d spontaneously burst into hives from not sleeping on black sheets. Traveling was a fluke, the rules didn’t apply while on vacation.

“Oh, we got jokes,” he said and grinned on the way to your place. “I’ll remember that tomorrow.” He kept that evil grin on his face and you shuddered to think of what he had planned while you clenched your thighs together.

At your place, you stopped him from getting out of the car with a hand on his. He looked at you, growing more and more concerned as he looked at your face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I don’t know how to just blurt this out,” you said. Your leg bounced in your seat. Your street was quiet for once, no one outside to distract you.

“Hey, total honesty.”

You nodded. “I was going to tell you last week but…” You took a deep breath and then closed your eyes. Rip that bandaid off.

“Someone’s stealing a shit ton of money from the company.”

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tre Files #Tre x Black!reader #Tre x Black reader #x Black reader #Tre x Fem!reader #Tre x Fem reader #Tre x reader #Tre x you #Boss!Tre x Assistant!reader #Assistant!reader #Candy Cane Lane fanfic #Candy Cane Lane fan fic #Candy Cane Lane fanfiction #Candy Cane Lane fan fiction #Trevante Rhodes fanfic #Trevante Rhodes fan fic #Trevante Rhodes fanfiction #Trevante Rhodes fan fiction

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dhmis-autism · 5 months

Note

TALK ABOUT DAD DOG DUO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEEE THEYRE MY FAVES

Okaaay I’ll talk about them! I’ll knock out about three or so things about their relationship that I've noticed that I like about it. Because they are my faves also as well. I mean, look at them!

First, and I’ve seen a post on this before (where I have NO IDEA I’ve BEEN LOOKING) so it’s not my original idea but I love pointing it out; how Duck takes care of YG physically.

First one to rush to get the first aid kit in Jobs, careful enough with Warren extraction in Friendship to not hurt YG, and some could argue that swapping his old rusty batteries out the first time in Electricity is a form of first aid. There’s also smaller stuff like how based off the flashback in Death, YG clearly trusts Duck enough with things like this to ask for his help.

Second would be the fact that I think their relationship is fairer than a lot of people think. Lots of people seem to have this idea that Duck is sort of a weird parental/authority figure over YG or that their relationship is just Duck constantly berating this guy who thinks the world of him. I’m going to break down why I think both of those points are untrue, and why I think their relationship is closer to equal.

YG clearly feels comfortable enough around Duck to draw boundaries with him. Example that immediately comes to mind, for me, is when Duck is trying to get the other two to leave with him in Family and Yellow straight up just turns him down. Like, if he doesn’t want to do something or go somewhere with him, he won’t.

Also, weirdly enough, the fight in Friendship solidifies more of them being on a equal playing field to me. Like Duck starts it verbally, but YG both makes it physical and immediately tells Duck not to insult him. Which, IMO, you wouldn’t do to someone you totally idolized/a parental figure. YG barely reacts when his own dad pushes him in Family, so I think if he saw Duck as a parental figure he definitely wouldn’t fight back the way he we see him do in Friendship.

Third I’m going to end with cute things about them that I’ve noticed. Starting with of course! Little moments in Death that are sweet like…

YG holding all of Ducks ties during Big Day

Duck ironing white socks in Big Day when we NEVER see him wear socks. YOU KNOW WHO DOES WEAR WHITE SOCKS THOUGH

YG sitting on Ducks bed while he mourns him

The flashback during Memories where Duck yells at him to GET OFF implying that Yellow makes himself comfy in Ducks bed often enough to make Duck annoyed

Their shared interest in music :]

The way they both bob their heads agreeingly in Transport when Red Guy is cycling through driving instruction tapes, implying they both understand the lessons LOL

Of course I have to bring up the (you have diabetes/ maybe your blood sugar is low, let me get you a snack thing) which makes me cry a lil bit. Both because of what it implies about them offscreen AND because as I’ve established in a previous post, when his batteries are Charged, YG’s memory is NOTABLY horrible. And despite that … somehow the diabetes thing was important enough for him to remember <:3

Anyways fav fav fav duo I LOVE them with all my heart. ❤❤❤❤❤

#MY DHMIS POSTINGS #dhmis #dhmis duck #dhmis yellow guy #I THINK SO MUCH ABOUT THEM. I HAVE CRIED OVER THEM SEVERAL TIMES. I LOVE THEM SO SO MUCH #i made. an animation in like 2 days dedicated to their friendship back in nov. made it just for myself to keep i just watch it on loop just #for me. made it jus for me.#anyways I NEED THOSE PLUSHEIES

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darlingmisa · 1 year

Note

HI CELESTE, this is your friendly neighborhood plant, moss 🫶

x moss was wondering if they could request you to write sage with a fem! reader who has been away for a long time now, a couple of weeks, maybe a month or two, and they had no way of contacting each other because of the potential danger of the mission going south. both are overly emotional, yeah? remember the cinematic with badass sage? the butterfly knife and the vandal(?), yeah, that was her being angry and sad, not knowing if you were alive and well. she was thinking the worst... but worry not, you are home now :)

feel free to ignore this if you have no motivation, thank you for all you do <3 take care of yourself celeste 🤭

Missing you - Sage x Fem! Reader

Moss darling!!! How could I ever say no to one of my faves? I'm so happy to get to write for you :) I hope this is up to your expectations <3

cw: slight mentions of blood and injuries, sage being anxious, comfort and fluffy stuff

word count: 600

To say that sage was worried was an understatement. Every agent left on base could see the stress radiating off of her, watching as she did everything she could to distract herself from the fact that you weren't back yet.

A solo mission. One she practically fought with brimstone to not have you go on, or at least let her come with. But he promised you'd be fine. So where were you? The mission was said to take 2-3 weeks, and it's been a little over a month since sage was last in touch with you.

The healer spent most of her time in the training room, fighting bots over and over again until the weight of her own body was too much to carry. After hours of training, she'd leave the area to take a quick shower and lay in bed, just to repeat the process the next day.

She hardly slept, how could she? She had no idea if you were safe or even alive. She tossed and turned every night, sleeping for no more than 30 minutes at a time. Sage craved your touch, how she would hold you while you played with her hair as you both fell asleep at the end of the night. She just wanted you home.

On the other side of things, you were bored of this mission. Barely any information was gathered, and simply, you were exhausted. You were allowed no contact with any of the agents, even the one who held your heart in her hands. You missed your healer of a girlfriend more than you could put into words, so when you got the smallest lead you sent the information back to the base and made your way home.

It was late when sage heard the door to her quarters slowly open, followed by your tired footsteps. Turning her head slightly, she could see your weak body standing in the doorway. Shoulders slumped and looking as if your legs could give out at any moment. But what really caught her attention was the light from the hallway clearly showing on all the blood caked onto your clothes and stuck in your hair.

You've never seen the healer move to your side so fast. Worry filled her eyes and you put on a weak smile, slowly falling into her arms. She helped you move to the bathroom, all exhaustion leaving her body the minute she saw you. Sage began running a bath before pulling out the first aid kit she always kept in your shared bathroom, mumbling things about how "she knew it wasn't safe for you to be alone" and "should've come with you anyway."

Once she placed you in the bath gently and began cleaning you up, she finally spoke. "I missed you. I was so worried.. If you didn't come back soon I would've gone and gotten you myself."

You let out a small laugh and gently grabbed her wrist. "I missed you too, join me?" You asked, looking into her eyes. You could tell she was tired, and probably needed this warm bath as much as you did, and Sage didn't hesitate to strip herself of her clothes and join you, finally being able to relax knowing you were safe and in her arms again.

After drying each other off and making your way back to your shared bed, you curled up against sage's chest, playing with her hair while she ran her fingers gently up and down your spine like she always did. Finally letting sleep take over both of you.

You missed this, and so did she.

#sage valorant #valorant x reader #valorant sage #sage x reader #valorant fanfiction

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marc-spectorr · 2 years

Note

✨HELLO✨

one muse is patching up the other’s injuries which leads to intense eye contact, lingering touches and them finally crashing their lips against each other’s + our fave flyboy Poe? 🥰🥰🥰

pairing: poe dameron x reader

warnings: mentions of blood & injuries. fluff

“I need to take off your shirt.”

“Well, at least buy me dinner first, sweetheart.”

You narrow your eyes into slits at Poe’s remark. If he wasn’t already terribly banged up the way he is now, you would have slapped him into another galaxy. You may have a lot of patience, but at this second, it’s running extremely low, especially after your commander over here got himself shot by a stormtrooper after his attempt in a heroic stunt.

You had things under control on your end. Poe apparently didn’t think that was the case.

“You know what, fine. Have it your way,” you huff out, pushing the first aid kit at him before rising back to your feet. “For someone at a high risk of bleeding out on the jungle floor, you sure have to make things difficult.”

“I was kidding, geez,” he grunts as he sits up straighter against the bark of the tree behind him. “I cope with humor, can’t you tell?”

“You call that humor?” Rolling your eyes, you kneel back beside him and make quick work of his buttons before carefully peeling the shirt open, revealing his lean yet defined body.

You swallow dryly, hoping Poe wouldn’t notice how quiet you suddenly are.

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

You ignore Poe’s comment this time, focusing now on the blaster wound marring his side. Fortunately, it’s not as bad as you both had initially thought. This doesn’t mean that the pain isn’t excruciating, and he could still bleed out if you don’t fix him up right then and there.

“So what’s the prognosis, doc? Am I going to live?”

“Do you ever stop talking?” You question him, half-joking, half-serious. “I swear, sometimes I think you’re doing this on purpose just to annoy me.”

Poe lets out a hiss as you gently apply the bacta patch to his skin. It wipes that cocky smirk off his face, which was now replaced with a grimace. “Annoy you? Sweetheart, I promise that it’s never my intention to annoy you.”

“And why do you keep calling me that? Sweetheart? I’m not your sweetheart, not even close.”

He falls silent for a fleeting moment, allowing you to fully concentrate on bandaging him up the best you can. Poe winces as you carefully wrap the gauze around his waist. You could sense his unwavering stare on you, the sounds of his shuddering breaths filling the stillness in the air.

“You didn’t need to do that.” Your words come out as a low whisper. Finally, you meet Poe’s gaze. “I saw it coming, that blaster shot. You didn’t have to jump in front of me and take the hit.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, closing a gloved hand over yours, adding a squeeze. “As much as it pisses you off, I’d do it all over again if it means keeping you safe, alive.”

“But why? Why sacrifice yourself to save me?”

Poe merely smiles, and it’s a genuine one that curls delicately at his lips. Soft and gentle, seeing it is like standing under a ray of sunshine after a storm. It makes you feel warm and gives you hope and joy. It stirs something deep inside of you, something that you’ve been denying for quite a while now.

“For the same reason why I call you sweetheart,” he answers as he draws circles in the back of your hand, his earthy eyes shimmering with the life still flowing inside him. “C’mon, you’re one of the best intelligence officers we have in the Resistance. Don’t act so naive; you’ve got to know it by now. You have to.”

And you do. You have always known but wouldn’t entertain the slightest thought of it. You and Poe? Please, you had more luck flying an X-Wing with zero experience than embarking on a relationship with the universe’s most arrogant pilot.

Yet, it was damn near impossible to avoid Poe and your feelings entirely. Not when you’re always paired together in almost every mission Leia assigns to you. You swear that woman thinks there really is something going on between you and Poe, and that’s why she’s torturing you by having him accompany you often.

Perhaps, her plan is working after all.

“Sweetheart?” Poe calls out softly, and it’s irritating how gorgeous he looks even after getting shot. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, fuck it—”

You crash your lips to his, the force of the kiss nearly knocking him off balance until your hands cup his cheeks, holding him steady. Poe is quick to match your eagerness, deepening the kiss as his tongue delves into your mouth, brushing it against your own.

A soft moan escapes him, and you abruptly pull away, believing that you had accidentally hurt him in some way.

“Why’d you stop?” He breathlessly asks, his hand stroking your hair.

“Sorry. I thought I pressed on your wound, and…” you trail off, not realizing that you’re grinning awfully bright at the lingering warmth on your lips. “We should— uh, get going. The ship’s not too far from where we’re at; think you can walk that far?”

“Yeah, I can,” Poe nods as you help him back up on his feet. Before you could start the trek, he spins you around and kisses you once more. This time, it’s much softer, slower, and sweeter. When it ends, you resist the urge to pull him back in for another. “Don’t think this is done and over with, okay?”

“I won’t,” you chuckle, throwing his arm around your shoulder, and Poe leans against you for support. “I’ll buy you dinner when we’re back on base.”

A kiss to your cheek, Poe then smiles. “I’m going to hold you to that, sweetheart.”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #callie's 2k celebration

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fand0mh03 · 1 year

Note

Hi I wonder if I can request a" how the Evans masturbate" especially Kai Anderson ? I love your writing by the way thanks

How the Evans would masturbate

Loves, this is my first time writing smut, so I am so sorry if this is horrible :,) thank you for the request and your kind words

Tate Langdon:

He would think of you while he did it

You’re just so beautiful, and since you’re not dead and you’re gone all day, he just can’t help himself

Really he just does the typical pumping until he comes, and then when you get home you two get into more intimate activities ;)

Kit Walker:

he gets lonely sitting up there in Briarcliff, especially if you’re not there or you’re at home

He’d think about your body, how he’d kiss all over your body, taking in all of your beauty while you’re under him

He’d have to be careful, since people are constantly checking in on him, so he’d have to be quick

He doesn’t have many resources, he he just resorts to the typical pumping

Let’s just say when he gets home to you, you can’t walk for a week

Kyle Spencer:

Again, pumping, he doesn’t want to go to a sex shop or anything to buy a toy, and he doesn’t want to risk his mom or frat buddies finding it

If he’s really in the mood he will, but I don’t think Kyle is a very sexual person, and the whole time he’s thinking about you, like how he’d tuck your hair behind your ear, and passionately kiss you

He would just want you so bad, but sadly you’re not there at that moment that he needs you

Jimmy Darling:

I feel like he’d be into cock warming, so he’d probably make a diy toy out of your clothes (rip your fave sweater 😔)

It’s not the same, but he’s weird

What

Anyways

He also probably would hump things and would probably jack off

He’d wait for you and if you were later than what you said, you’re in for it

You won’t be able to walk for a while

Rip your knees if ykyk

Kai Anderson:

have you met Kai?

No you haven’t 🥹

But anyways, he would not let you leave the house

So you’re his personal sex doll!

Even if you didn’t want it, too bad, Kai gets what he wants

He will literally punish you if you’re not there when he needs you

Evan Peters:

he’s constantly away considering his job, so he’d probably be into nudes

So you’d send him a few photos, he’d send a few photos and so forth, and he’d probably hump and get off while looking at your pics and thinking about you

We all saw his humping game in that one interview 🤭

Anyways, he would really miss you, since he loves you! So he thinks about you 24/

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ectogeo-rebubbles · 9 months

Text

Poll: Timing of the Siskarak fling that definitely happened at some point for sure

If you don't think Garak and Sisko ever banged then this is maybe just not the post for you. <3 If, on the other hand, you think they did bang, but not at one of these specific moments, PLEASE DO tell me about the scenario(s) you're imagining in the tags or replies or reblogs or whatever, bc I ABSOLUTELY want to hear about it!!!! <3 <3 <3

DETAILED EXPLANATIONS OF THE POLL CHOICES:

pre-canon: The crackiest one by far. We know that Garak was at the Cardassian embassy on Romulus at some point before canon, based on Broken Link. According to a deleted scene (therefore DEF not actually canon facts, just for fun lol), Sisko was at the Federation embassy on Romulus at some point before canon. YOU DO THE MATH

post-Profit and Loss: "Oh, and if you'd like, stop by the shop one day. I have a number of suits that would look quite flattering on you." We all know from Past Prologue that this is Garak's fave pickup line.

post-The Search part 2: Sisko has a charged little conversation with simulation!Garak in the Replimat, including many sly smiles and the line "Mr. Garak I never knew we thought so much alike." This could easily be the moment when Sisko realizes Garak's attractive.

approx. The Way of the Warrior: Remember how Garak offered Sisko a new suit earlier? This ep involves Sisko cashing in on that, and making Garak do a fitting for him in the wardroom to pass him information. Maybe once the crisis has passed they do a more private fitting, if you know what I mean. Or maybe they've already hooked up before The Way of the Warrior, and that's why Garak makes that expression of interest when Sisko call him up to the wardroom and asks him to bring his tailor's kit (thinks it's another booty call).

approx. Favor the Bold: This ep is where it's mentioned that Garak is temporarily stuck hanging out on the Starbase, and it also happens to be when Sisko is working from an office there. So the hookup would not necessarily happen during this ep, but just when they are in similar conditions of being the only Niners left behind on the Starbase. Garak is starting to cooperate more extensively with Starfleet than he ever has before (he even has some anxiety and paranoia during Favor the Bold that could be taken as a precursor to his more severe breakdown in Afterimage). But yeah what could better symbolize his desperate the-enemy-of-my-enemy-is-my-friend sort of cooperation that he now has with Starfleet than to sleep with Sisko. <3

In the Pale Moonlight: Exhibit A, this meme of a screenshot from ITPM that features the text: "they call it committing murder because it’s a commitment. it’s a more serious commitment than marriage." Enough said. <3 ^_^ I mean, who WOULDN'T get turned on by all that shady plotting and scheming, whew! Not to mention the inherent intimacy of sharing a dangerous secret.

#siskarak #my polls

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almost-a-class-act · 7 months

Text

For an all-time fave on her birthday. What would we do without @fayestardust! Hope your day is fab, hope the stars align, hope you know I appreciate you.

Pairing: Baberoe Fandom: Band of Brothers

Babe is up on the ladder dragging unidentified swamp gunk out of the gutters on a day that is already warmer than it has any right to be, when he hears Eugene curse through the open kitchen window.

It is not unheard of for him to curse (though he thankfully has fewer reasons to these days), but since he is alone in the house and as far as Babe knows is doing nothing more strenuous than washing the dishes from lunch, it bears remarking upon.

“Gene?” he calls, pausing in his work and ducking his head to wipe the sweat from his forehead on the unfortunate upper arm of his shirt, stained dark from the four or five times he has already done this in the past fifteen minutes.

There is a brief silence.

Babe frowns. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Eugene says, almost over the end of Babe’s query. “I’m fine, I just – I must’ve broken a glass and didn’t see it under the soap. Cut myself.”

Babe has already begun his descent toward the ground. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

"Don't break your neck coming down that ladder," Eugene warns, but it's not an argument, which is how Babe knows there’s probably enough blood to warrant it being looked after.

When he comes into the house, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness, and he reaches out to place a guiding touch on the doorframe as he turns into the kitchen. Eugene is holding one hand up to keep it out of the fray, using the other one to briskly mop away pink-tinged water and suds along the edge of the sink with the dish towel.

Babe approaches and collects the wounded hand in both of his, examining the cut that runs diagonally across Eugene’s palm. It’s shallow, but like hand wounds always do, it is weeping more than it has any right to. Babe keeps a hold of it and steers Eugene away from the sink, toward the cupboard where they keep the first aid kit, next to the table.

“I can hold my own hand,” Eugene says.

“I like holding your hand,” Babe returns cheerfully.

Eugene smiles faintly at that, as Babe had known he would. He lets Babe push him gently but firmly into a kitchen chair and waits patiently as Babe fumbles the first aid kit open with one hand, unscrewing the iodine with his teeth.

“This might sting,” Babe warns.

“I think I’ll manage,” Eugene replies, though he still pulls a sweetly disagreeable face when the iodine meets his skin, like a boy trying to be brave when he’s skinned his knee at school. Babe tugs the wounded unit toward him and meets it halfway, kissing Eugene’s palm where it meets his wrist. It’s a whimsical press of his lips that is an echo of all of the other little things he does, now that he can comfort Eugene whenever the situation calls for it, now that he doesn’t have to hold back within the walls of their old farmhouse.

Eugene watches him do it with that funny, dear little pull between his eyebrows, undone and slightly fragile, like he doesn’t know what he did to make it here and have this, a homecoming so unlikely that they’d had to decide that they wanted it with all their hearts and then build it themselves.

(Eugene deserves the whole world, of course, but the inherent contradiction in people like him is that they never know it.)

Babe quickly bandages the wound, careful not to wind it too tight, and Eugene says, just as he’s finishing, “I guess we’ll match now.”

Babe smiles. That silver stroke across his palm, that he worries absently-mindedly at with his thumb when he’s considering a problem, is the one souvenir from Bastogne he doesn’t mind having to carry with him into the rest of his life. “Hey, imagine that.”

Eugene gently takes his hand back, inspecting the bandage. “Not bad,” he remarks.

“Well, it’s no bedsheet, but I tried my best,” Babe replies, stowing the first aid kit again. Eugene smiles faintly again and reaches out to nudge the knuckles of his good hand against the closest part of Babe he can reach – his thigh – and his smile deepens as Babe catches that hand and doesn’t let go.

#baberoe #band of brothers #fanfiction #roaroftheninth

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fairdale · 4 months

Note

Top 4 fave TSC characters and ships?

so at first i was like "sh*t, this is hard", but actually my top 4 characters it's pretty easy (idk about ships tho).

for characters:

1. will herondale. the loml. my baby. my everything. i love him to pieces. it's been so long since i first read about him and he's still my favorite book character EVER. i won't say much more because i wanted to do a long post dedicated solely to him.

2. alec lightwood. the other loml. i admire him so much and his character development is my favorite. he's grown so much and i'm so proud of how much he has achieved and how confident he has become. he deserves the best of the best and i wish him a very long, happy and filled with love life with magnus, rafael and max.

https://www.tumblr.com/fairdale/658362826868523008/okay-but-can-we-talk-about-how-alec-lightwood-has

3. alastair carstairs. when i tell you i didn't expect him to be my fave tlh character, i mean it. i remember reading the first book and being very curious about him, but i couldn't have predicted how much he would grow on me. he also has an amazing character arc in my opinion and i'm so proud of him. he's a softie.

https://www.tumblr.com/fairdale/734425523412926464/okay-ive-been-thinking-and-i-actually-think

4. kieran kingson. listen. HE'S SUCH A BOSS. i remember i didn't know how to feel about him at first. i was conflicted. i didn't how to feel about him and mark and cristina (i love the three of them and i'm so happy that they're together, just wanted to say it). he was a bit of an ass and i got really mad because of what he did to emma. but he redeemed himself. and i loved him so so much the more i knew about him. how he cared for mark and, later on, for cristina. i still think there's so much more to him that we don't know and i hope we get to see more of him (like, a lot). this may be a bit surprising, but he's so dear to me.

honorable mention to tessa, jem, matthew, magnus, kit, ty and raphael (and a lot more but let's not get carried away).

for ships:

herongraystairs. this one doesn't need explanation. they've been my roman empire for more than a decade. i'm not exaggerating. i love how much they love each other. i've never cried so much as i have with them. i'm still mad jem and will didn't grow old together. and i'm still so so sad for tessa (but happy that she got two loves like them).

malec. they're battling for top 1. COME ON, THEY'RE MALEC. of course they're on my top. iconic. great. sexy. funny. THEY'RE THE BEST. i get so happy everytime they appear and i only want them to be happy.

thomastair. I LOVE THEM. they're so cute and they love each other so much. they grew a lot and overcame a lot of fears to be together. they deserve each other and i loved their storyline.

kierarktina. SO HAPPY THEY ALL GOT TO BE TOGETHER. THEY'RE IN LOVE AND HAPPY. i need more of them. right now. and i need a solution because i want kieran to be together more than he is allowed at the moment.

special mention to kitty (i didn't put them because i'm waiting for twp, lame excuse, i know, I'M OBSESSED WITH THEM SINCE THEIR FIRST SCENE TOGETHER) and sophideon (is that the name?).

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jovenshires · 5 months

Note

another quick note for the theater ep:

the 23:16 comment had me react in the exact same way as tommy bc like- oh my god 🙊

the lil fist bump after was really cute tho 🥹

also spencer later going "we are gonna give birth" were two mpregs not enough for our guy?! 😹 (sorry)

mild spoilers:

Angela is canonically Ian's daughter now ig 🙏

sadly the question of "Will Tommy and Spencer ever get paired up for a single one of these improv scenarios?" has once again been answered with "No" :/

nevermind I wrote this before spencer took matters into his own hands. truly the spommy nation king 🙏

also spencer's line at 32:23 + their interaction had me immeditaly go 👀😹

sorry this is getting long but like:

the fact that based on the comments being read out, we got lowkey moments for several of our fave ships??

like 2 shaynse comments; 1 for amangela and then the heavy hitter for spourtney?!

they were truly feeding us with this episode 🙏

no bc when i tell you i literally made this exact tommy face

hand over mouth, eyes glazed over, shocked. anyway the fistbump was everything to me but im sure we knew that

stella i hate to tell you this but this is actually his fourth instance of mpreg crimes (he and tommy did an implied mpreg ad for utm. no i am not kidding i wish that i was.) and he should be in jail for them. actually smosh in general should be jailed for mpreg crimes.

ian mpreg ending in angela birth is actually... i was gonna say a sentence i never thought i would type but honestly it checks out

well hey we got the 'he's actually a brilliantly talented comedian' line so i digress!

spencer, the og spommy nation founder, said, "my people are starving. i shall provide." and then he fucking did. florida boy to florida boy.

i DID NOT expect THE spourtney moment of all time holy shit. someone check on kit. ARE THEY OKAY. anyway yeah two comments about chanse read by shayne and one by amanda about angela? fucking crazy. we won today boys!!!

#spommy #shipping #smosh pit theater #spt #stella #ask #asks #wallpaper inside my heart

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kellyvela · 1 year

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The fact that the girl who asked Kit the question leading to him saying the Jonsa reunion was one of his favorite moments was dressed as A*ya is so KJNSDNFSDNN. I just know the A*ya fans and J*nrya shippers are FUMING. LMFAO.

It's too funny, really.

Here is the full transcription:

Question (by a girl cosplaying fave sister): Hi! So, I was wondering, one of the coolest moments for us was seeing, torwards the end of the series, getting to reunite all the Stark kids, getting to reunite again. What was it like getting to actually reunite with these actors and getting to play with now these well developed characters, and on set, how did that, how did that feel to kind of play together?

Kit Harington: I remember the Sansa reunion especially. It was one of my favorite moments. And I think that for me it was the fact that I haven't seen Sophie, on camera being Sansa in the flesh, since she was... well, she's about the same height as me then.... [laughs] Since she was my height. But It was, you know, I remember that hug that we had, and it was genuinely emotional for both of us I think, because we have genuinely like, our characters have been through horrific things and we have been through this journey of the show getting bigger and bigger and bigger, and then we met at the courtyard of Castle Black, and it wasn't hard to act, it was like, it was a beautiful kind of moment. I remember that especially.

Yeah, there was a nice moment at the end of the whole show where there's all four of them, right? And you forget that they lost another brother.... You kinda forget that in the middle of everything. But yeah, those were nice moments. They almost felt too big to act sometimes. You're like, there's too much, you had to kind of get out of the idea of it being this big thing and fans watching it and looking forward to it.

#anon asks #jonsa

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f1tasies · 2 years

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https://www.instagram.com/reel/CcF2LIGju82/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Pierre vibes such Pierre vibes..All the effort to get ready for a event just to make out and ruin makeup at home... Redo it and f*** in the car... Cancel plans for the event completely...

Man's got it in him to strip at a vineyard which is why mans got it in him to f*** in the car.

I'm sorry anon this took so long, but this is DONE! It's honestly one of my faves!!! Loved the prompt too <3 tw- unsafe driving, medical conditions

2.6k. Enjoy

---

The thing with Pierre is that his love language is touch. He always wants to be near you, feel you, stay with you. When you sleep, he’s always got one arm on you — on your shoulder, on your waist, on your breasts, or sometimes much, much lower. He needs physical reaffirmation that someone as incredible as you was with him.

Since you moved to Monaco, it’s been impossible to get a free moment with him though. You had your own bustling social life, and when Pierre wasn’t hanging out with his driver friends, he was with the team: working on the car, perfecting it. You couldn’t complain, whenever he had a good day at work, he’d come home and spoil you, submitting to your every whim.

It was rare that the two of you had a free moment alone. Like tonight. Red Bull wanted him to do some promo work and your own agency had tied up with the event, so unfortunately both of you were needed.

You stare at your closet, wondering what to wear. When you have too many clothes — things you bought yourself, your sponsors gave you, Pierre gifted you — it feels like you have nothing to wear.

You sigh. "Nothing works for tonight," you say, and sit on your bed, brooding.

Pierre exits the bathroom, covered only with a towel. You smirk when you look at him. You love how he looks, all hot and bothered, reminding you of the times he fucked you hard and raw after a race. You quickly shake your head, trying to drive away those thoughts. You had somewhere else to be.

He chuckles when his gaze meets yours, catching you red handed. You would’ve blushed, but he is your boyfriend. You have every right to stare.

"What's the problem?" he asks, chucking his used clothes into the laundry basket.

"I don't know what to wear!" You stand up, throwing your hands.

“Well,” he starts. “At least you have a choice.” That was true. Pierre could only wear what Red Bull, no sorry, Alpha Tauri assigned him.

“Touche.” You collapse on your bed, face-down. “Help me?” You whimper

"That's easy," he smiles.

You turn to your back and interrupt him before he continues. You've had this conversation multiple times.

"Don't say nothing." You throw a blouse at him.

He grabs your hand and pulls you up. "Wasn't going to." He whispers into your ear. "But that is your best look."

You laugh.

“And,” Pierre’s eyes wander down your body. “I have to fuck you in this.”

You wear a white lingerie set that Pierre had got you. You hadn't had a chance to really model it until now.

"Like what you see?" You taunt, turning towards him bending down, giving him the perfect view of your ample chest

"Always," he kisses you, grabbing your hair. You almost give in, but remember you’re getting late.

You pull away. “Not now, Pierre. We have to go soon.”

He sighs. “Fine. I think you should wear the silver dress.” He holds up a hanger.

You take it from his hands, feeling the soft material. It was a classy number, albeit a little short.

It was perfect really. You quickly get your makeup kit, starting on your foundation. You don’t need to do a lot in the way of makeup — slight contouring, dark eye shadow, bold lipstick. That was enough.

Pierre turns away from you and gets dressed himself. You liked his style — effortless, clean, suave. Just like him.

You unzip the dress, slipping into it. Unfortunately, the zip locked up, and you were afraid of pulling it up further, which could break it.

“Pierre?” You call for him. “Fix this please?”

He gathers your hair and pushes it forward, down your shoulders. You feel him grab the zipper, but pulling it downward instead of—

“You sick bastard,” you take his hands off of you but he places a soft kiss on your hand.

“You can’t kiss your way out of the party sweetheart,” you reprimand him.

His gaze flicks upwards. “Let me try,” he whispers in your ear and kisses you. Softly, at first. He wants permission. You couldn’t resist him, not like this. You deepen the kiss, your tongue finding his.

Both of you somehow end up on the bed, clothes disheveled, mascara running down your face.

In the tiny reprieve you get between kisses, you look down at his chest. Pierre was covered in blue lipstick, but he didn’t seem to care that his white blazer was stained.

“Sweetheart,” you tell him. “Your jacket-”

“Is it working?” he interrupts you, grinning. “Did I kiss myself out of this?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No way. We’re just going to have to be fashionably late.” You flip your hair back and look at yourself in the mirror. It actually looked better like that, messed up, but this was a formal event. This was going to be extra work.

Pierre’s arms snake around you from behind, and you recline into his touch, sinking into his embrace. He made you feel things you’d never associate with yourself. He was the only one who could bring you to your knees willingly. You didn’t mind one bit.

—

15 minutes later, you’ve successfully fixed his jacket, hiding the more stubborn stains with a delicate scarf (one of yours, but it looks good on him) while he braided your hair and artfully tied it up.

You never asked how he knows to make the most incredible hairstyles, and he doesn’t tell you either. He just knows. Grabbing a few decorative silver hair pins you’d got from an antique store from your dresser, he inserts them, securing your hair.

“Voila,” he says, his hand sweeping over your face, as he shows off his work. “Est-ce à votre satisfaction, mademoiselle?”

“Oui, monsieur,” you shoot back, very impressed. “This is for you,” you hand him his blazer and grab the car keys.

“The Acura?” his eyes widen as he shrugs the garment on.

“We’re representing a brand, baby. Gotta look the part,” you shoot him a wink.

“Only if I’m driving,” he runs behind you.

You hold the keys out of his reach, teasing him. “Only if you catch up to–” You trip, losing balance.

You were running in high heels. A bad decision, you think, but that couldn’t be helped now. You brace for impact, but something stops your face planting into the gravel. You feel your feet be lifted off the ground in a sweep, and you close your eyes.

“Careful now,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. Of course Pierre caught you, stupid knight in shining armor–

“What, no thanks?” he taunts.

You open your eyes to meet his dusk blue ones, and lean in, pressing your lips to his.

“I am eternally grateful,” you whisper, when you break apart, and then mumble ‘showoff.’ He laughs.

“Open the car for me?”

You press the button. Pierre unlocks the passenger side door and gently places you. You quickly shift to the drivers side, so when he opens the other door, he has to go back to the passenger side.

“This is what I get for being nice?” he complains

“Get in if you want to come,” you tilt your head, telling him to hurry up.

“Oh, I’ll make you come,” Pierre mutters, the words putting you slightly on edge.

“What?” you furrow your eyebrows. He refuses to elaborate. He straps in and turns on the speaker system.

Fine. He could have the music he wanted. You were still the one driving anyway.

You pull away quickly, adjusting your mirrors as you go. Not ideal car etiquette, but you were in a rush.

Pierre fiddles around with his phone until he finds one he likes and hits play. You couldn’t help but tap along with the beat. It was a synth-pop number, and you adored the bass.

“I love this song!” You smile at Pierre, who reclines his seat and puts on a pair of sunglasses. Leave it to him to wear shades at night. You sometimes wondered why you even liked him.

You look back in front of you and your heart almost jumps out of your chest. You slam the brakes hard, the tyres screeching, but stopping right in front of a dog. Pierre’s left arm flies in front of you, securing you. Your heart flutters, you think you skip a beat. You’re not sure if it’s because of the almost-accident or Pierre that made you feel that way.

You honk the horn aggressively, trying to get the dog out of the way, and when it scampers off, you start the car again, this time controlling your pace.

His hand relaxes and falls to your thigh.

“Don’t fuck with her like this, ma tigresse,” Pierre tells you, his fingers tracing circles on your leg. “Have I ever treated you like this?”

You blow a stray strand out of your face. “Well, maybe you should,” you stick your tongue out at him. “Because I treat her excellently.”

“Maybe I should show you how you treat her,” Pierre’s voice dropped. You suck in a breath as his hands wander to your inner thigh.

You had an inkling of where this was going, and what was to come.

“Pierre,” you warn him, not taking your eyes off the road. He ignores you, and his hand is dangerously close to your clit.

When he starts rubbing you, you almost swerve into a truck.

“Fuck,” you moan. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He’s relentless.

“You fuck my car? I fuck you. It’s simple really,” Pierre takes his hand away and licks his fingers, making sure you see him in your peripheral vision. You feel heat pool at your core, and almost become a hot, pathetic, sex-crazed mess, but somehow, you focused on the road.

Turn right at the next intersection, your GPS tells you in its saccharine robotic voice. She irritated you and you were getting payback.

“Oh yeah?” you cock an eyebrow at Pierre, as you accelerate. “Like this?” your right hand wanders to the e-brake.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Pierre’s eyes look aghast. “Unless… My kiss to escape strategy worked and you want me to fuck you so bad you’re willing to skip this event.”

“Very funny Pierre,” you pull your dress down, covering up whatever he exposed.

This time, Pierre opts for a more direct route. “Take the next left,” he commands.

“What? But the GPS–”

“It’s a shortcut. Charles told me about it.”

You trusted Charles, and he lived in Monaco his whole life. You sigh and turn left. Instantly, you know you’ve been tricked.

“Pierre!” you explode at him. “Seriously? That just cost us another 15 minutes!”

He nods and gets out of his seat, towering over you.

“Push your seat back, and put the car in cruise control,” he whispers.

“What–”

He sighs and does it himself. “That wasn’t so hard was it?” he kisses the back of your neck, hands wandering around your chest.

Your left hand remained firmly on the steering wheel, but your right, which you rested on the e-brake, was now touching something that most definitely wasn’t an e-brake.

“But you are,” you bite his lips, slightly drawing blood. "Hard, I mean," Your grip on him tightens, and you feel his breath waver.

His steely gaze locks onto yours.

“I made you a promise that I’d make you cum, right?”

The road you were on was empty. It was as if Pierre had planned for this moment. You part your legs in resignation, and Pierre sinks downwards.

It was difficult for you to stay focused on the road when he flicks his tongue over your clit. Or pushes a finger inside you, massaging your g-spot. Your eyes flutter, doing their damned best at not closing up, but ultimately, the pleasure is too much.

You have no idea what obscenities leave your mouth when Pierre starts using his teeth. Not too much, but just the subtlest graze left your sensitive skin on fire. You didn’t know how fast you were going. You didn’t know how late you were to the gala. You honestly didn’t care.

All that mattered was Pierre, and his incredible body between your legs. He’d let his stubble grow out a bit, and the friction was going to leave a mark– but who was going to see that except him? The way he peered at you between your knees, you wanted nothing more than for him to take you right there.

You realize he’s not actually letting you cum. He brings you close, so so very close, but then lets go instantly, diverting his attention somewhere else. He was doing that on purpose, you think.

“What– Fuck– about that promise? Pierre?”

“Hmm?” he pauses. “Oh that? I’m just treating you like you treat my baby.”

“Pierre!” you gasp, desperate for release. “Please…”

He ignores you, his nails scratching your thighs.

For a while, he does nothing. It was almost as if he wasn’t there, compressed in this incredibly small space, sucking you dry.

Then he strikes. And it feels like everything at once. At some point he rolled the windows down, so the full force of the wind slaps your face. The deafening roar of the engine. The wet sounds of whatever he was doing to you. The loneliness.

Pierre attacks you through your orgasm, refusing to let you go.

“Pierre I can’t anymore I just can’t Pierre please Pierre–” you have no idea what you say, you just want this moment to never stop but get over at the same time. A paradox.

And then he does let go, and the car comes to a screeching halt, propelling you forward. Finally. Civilization. Another car.

But then Pierre grabs his head.

“Fuck are you okay?” you bring the car to the side. “Let me see,” you pant, still not completely recovered.

The light from your phone illuminates his forehead, and he winces when you touch it.

“Ow!” he gently presses your hand between his, telling you to pull away. That was a concerning amount of blood. Shit. That would need stitches, you think.

“Pierre,” you hug him tight. “Text them, we can’t make it. I have to take you to the hospital. Merde!” you curse, inputting the details into your GPS.

He smiles at you, slightly dazed. “It actually worked! Kissing you got me out of the damned gala!”

—

“Wow calamar,” Charles greeted Pierre with a friendly pat on the back. “That’s a bad cut! What happened?”

Pierre grins. “Would you believe it if I told you it was sex injury?”

You freeze. The official story was he tripped and fell. Christian and Marko were okay with that excuse. The bandage on his forehead was evidence enough. Pyry didn’t trust you but he didn’t say anything out of the ordinary.

Pierre just blew your cover.

Charles looks at the two of you, confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He’s joking, Charles,” you slap him on the shoulder, sending Pierre a warning look. “Right Pierre?”

“Sure,” he winks at him.

Charles sighs. “Stop making fun of me Pierre, you know I can’t wink.”

“Aww Charlie,” you tease. “It’s okay. I’ll teach you how to wink,” you wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him closer. “Me and Pierre. Only for you.”

Pierre goes pale. “She’s joking,” he tells Charles. “Right, mon amour?”

“Sure,” you wink back.

---

#pg #f1 smut #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #f1 fanfiction #f1tasy #going down #ask #anon #request #tw unsafe driving #tw stitches #tw medical

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omgthatdress · 1 year

Photo

Julie’s two birthday dresses are two of my faves. For real I mean it when I say that the 1970s have the best sun dresses. As a Florida girl, sun dresses mean a lot to me, and I’m sure they meant a lot to Julie as a California girl.

The white dress and straw hat combo is just perfect. I love it. A+

The purple dress outfit is also terrific, it just needs some accessories! One of those long 70s necklaces with a big owl pendant, along with a funky belt, maybe some turquoise? and some big square sunglasses would really make that look perfect.

(1stdibs.com)

( cricketcapers )

As for her birthday collection, originally she comes with a great little picnic barbecue kit, which is a great, clever way to have a food collection that doesn’t have another table and chairs (although she does have a pretty great table and chairs)

Her BeForever birthday collection is ever 70s cliche you can think of:

I mean, work, but come on. Have at least *some* creativity.

Julie’s birthday story happens in Julie and the Eagles, and it’s about Julie’s interest in saving the bald eagle from extinction, which was a HUGE environmentalist cause in the 1970s. I think it also ties into America’s bicentennial celebration, which was trying to create a moment of of patriotism and unity after the mess of the Vietnam War. The save the eagles thing was a success, getting the pesticide DDT banned and ushering in the Endangered Species Act. Pretty cool to see that being covered by AG.

#1970s #American Girl #Julie

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