#*slams post button* *runs the other way*

[munsonsmixtapes]

Backseat

older!rich!Eddie x younger!fem!reader

summary: Eddie is a regular at the store where you work and flirts with you every chance he gets

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) oral (f receiving) Eddie had a degradation kink, Eddie ties reader up, use of the word whore, age gap (reader is 25 and Eddie is 40)

Based on a comment on this post by @n0t-even-try1ng-2

You watched Eddie enter the store as you folded a shirt and put it on the table with the others that were just like it. He had come in very regularly and you wondered just what he did to his clothing in order to need a new shirt every week.

He made a beeline for you with a bright smile. He was dressed in his usual suit so you assumed he just got off work. You didn’t know what he did, but you assumed that it was important considering that he wore a suit everyday. Maybe he was a lawyer or something along those lines. His long hair was perfect, not a single hair out of place and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers through it. It just looked so soft and pretty.

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted with his million dollar smile.

“Hello, Eddie,” you nodded. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” It wasn’t like you were counting or anything. Okay, maybe you were.

“Yeah, work’s been kind of busy,” he shrugged. “I’ve been getting off after you close, which is a huge disappointment because I missed you-I mean, you guys.” Nice save.

“Well, we have some new stuff in if you’re interested.” You led Eddie to the rack where the new clothing items were located and he stood behind you. He reached up and grabbed onto a blue button up shirt and you didn’t miss the way his hand rested on your hip as he did so.

You looked down at his hand and slowly brought your hand up to rest on top of his. You had been wanting him to touch you for months, maybe in a more inappropriate way, but you were going to take whatever you could get.

You had been crushing on him for months and you knew that a relationship between the two of you would be inappropriate, but you couldn't help but fantasize about it. He was so hot and older and knowing that you probably shouldn't have been interested in him only made you want him more.

"What do you think?" He asked as he held the shirt up to his chest. The color complimented him perfectly, making his brown eyes pop.

"I like it. You should try it on." Eddie began to unbutton his shirt and you put your hands on top of his. "Not here, silly!" You giggled. "In the dressing room."

"I think I need some help. These buttons are awfully tricky," he winked and grabbed you by the hand, pulling you to the nearest dressing room.

He pulled the door open and dragged you inside before slamming it closed. As soon as you were out of the view of the cameras, your hands immediately went to Eddie’s shirt, unbuttoning it as slowly as possible. 

Once it was unbuttoned, you eyes the tattoos that were all over his torso, curious about them and what they meant. Maybe you could have asked him later. He put the other one on and you buttoned it up, moving even slower as a way to tease him and he was playing right into your hand, falling for it so easily. 

He then turned to the mirror, moving this way and that to see how it looked and he immediately decided that he liked it. He wanted to buy it with the intention of having you rip it off him, the buttons flying everywhere as you did so. And then he’d buy another for work because he really did think that it suited him. 

“What do you think?” He asked as he turned to face you and you studied him, wondering how he looked good in every single color. It was honestly unfair. 

“Very handsome,” you replied, moving your hands up to fix the collar that had gotten moved when he had put the shirt on. Your fingers brushed his neck as you pulled the collar down and he felt his cheeks burn as thought about what they would feel wrapped around his neck, giving it a little squeeze. He just wanted you to do the most filthy things to him and he just knew that you’d enjoy it just as much as he would. 

“I’ll take two,” he said before leaning down so that his lips were right by your ear. “One for work and one for you to rip to shreds,” his hot breath on your skin mixed with his filthy words was making a mess of your cunt. “I don’t want it to even look like a shirt when you’re done with it.” 

He pulled back to look at you and the sexual tension between the both of you was palpable. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and Eddie slowly brought his thumb up to remove it. Once it was free from your teeth, he ran his thumb along it slowly, removing some of your lipstick, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind at all. In fact, you wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you so roughly that it smeared all over both of your faces.

Before you could register what he was doing, he grabbed hold of your hips and pushed you up against the door. He pressed his lips to yours roughly and you responded quickly by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. His lips moved down to your neck and he peppered the spot with kisses before giving it a rough suck. You let out a loud moan and quickly covered your mouth, suddenly remembering that you were at work. You pushed him off of you and fixed your shirt, looking at yourself in the mirror to make sure that you looked presentable. You definitely didn’t with your hair all messed up and your lipstick smeared all over your face.

“Let me clock out really fast,” you told him as you checked the time on your phone to make sure that it was okay for you to do so. You pulled Eddie over to the register and checked him out before shooing him out of the store. He stole another kiss before heading out to his car to wait for you while you finished closing up. 

You did your duties as quickly as you could, but still made sure that they were done correctly as you occasionally turned to the car that was in front of the store. The very handsome man was sitting in the driver’s seat, his eyes looking at you hungrily.

You usually took your sweet time to lock up so you’d get a little extra cash for staying later, but not tonight. Tonight, you had something waiting for you and it was worth losing the few extra dollars if it meant he was going to fuck you senseless. 

You locked the doors as quickly as possible before getting into the passenger seat of Eddie’s very nice, very expensive car. You turned to him and he was already looking at you, lust filling his eyes. Without a word, his hand moved to the back of your head and he pulled your face to his, your lips crashing together. He took no time to lick into your mouth, trying to speed up the process since he was already very hard and getting even more so by the second. 

His hands moved up your top and he quickly removed it from you, wanting to see just what kind of bra you were wearing. It was black and lacy and he wondered why you were wearing something so scandalous to work. 

“This is pretty,” he complimented as his free hand ran over the lace, his cold fingers brushing along your skin causing a shiver to run up your spine. “You wear it for me, sweetheart?” He joked. 

“Yes,” you breathed, completely serious. 

“Did you think you’d get lucky?”

“I was hoping.”

“Yeah?” He asked as he unhooked your bra and tossed it into the backseat. “Been dreaming about this, hm?” His hand moved to your tit and he began to massage your nipple with the pad of his thumb. “Been dreaming about all the things I’d do to you?”

“Yes,” you moaned and Eddie put on a devilish smirk, loving that he had you exactly where he wanted you. 

“Good,” he moved his hand to the other nipple. “Because I’ve been dreaming about it too. Christ, you’ve been torturing me every damn day. Did you know that? It’s like you’ve been wearing those skimpy tops on purpose.”

“Maybe I have.” You bat your eyelashes and that was the final straw. Eddie pressed his lip to your chest and gave it a rough suck, causing you to moan loudly. Music to his ears. He licked and sucked all over, wanting to hear more of those delicious sounds. 

He moved his way down to one of your tits and brought your nipple into his mouth, moving his tongue back and forth along it, teasing you a bit before going in for the main event. He gave the sensitive spot a rough suck and you whined in response, wanting even more than he was giving. You were getting needy and he was eating it up. 

Just as your vision was going hazy, Eddie brought the thing between his teeth and nibbled on it, giving you a little taste, wanting you to bed for the full thing. He needed to hear the words fall from your lips, wanting to hear you whine for him. 

“More, Eddie,” you whimpered and he did as you asked, biting down a little harder. “Harder.” Your whines were getting pathetic and he was getting super hard. He bit down as hard as he could without actually breaking the skin and you screamed his name as you reached your first climax. Eddie pulled away with another smirk, convinced that was the fastest he had ever made a girl cum. Less than twenty minutes and you were already a fucking mess. 

He looked down at his creation of hickeys all along your chest and smiled to himself, thinking that was his best work. He then pressed his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth again, swirling his tongue around it, wanting to taste every inch of it. 

You pulled away and started to move to the backseat, pulling Eddie with you by his tie that you hadn’t noticed he had put back on until now. He followed you eagerly and as soon as you were both seated, you started to remove his tie. Once it was off, you handed it to him, your eyes going dark. 

“Tie me up,” you commanded and Eddie blinked at you, almost as if he didn’t understand you. 

“Wh-”

“I said tie me up,” you commanded and Eddie nodded furiously, wanting to obey. 

“Need you to take my shirt off first, sweetheart, then I promise that I’ll tie you up.” Your hands went to his shirt and you unbuttoned it as fast as you could, desperate for him to actually get inside you. You couldn’t wait any longer and swore that your pussy was aching from how long you had been longing for his cock. 

As soon as his shirt was discarded, he grabbed your wrists firmly and lifted them over your head. He then looped the tie through the handle that was connected to the side of the door and tied it tight, looking down at your face to see that flirty look that always drove him crazy. 

Once he was done, he lowered himself down onto you and licked and sucked on your stomach, slowly but surely making his way down to your jeans, hearing your pathetic little whines as you begged for him. 

“Eddie, please,” you begged. “Need you so fucking bad.” He looked up at you as he slowly unbuttoned your pants, taking his time sliding the zipper down. He then practically ripped your jeans off of you as he slid them quickly down your legs. He then discarded them before removing your underwear, spreading your legs wide to get a good look at your cunt. 

It was sopping wet and he licked his lips as he thought about what you tasted like. But that would have to wait. He wanted to fill you up first and lap up the combination of his cum mixed with your slick, just knowing that it was going to taste heavenly. That you would taste heavenly. 

“Shit, sweetheart. Is this all for me?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your cunt. 

“Who else would it be for?” You asked, your tone a little angry since he seemed to be taking his time. 

“Don't take that tone with me,” he commanded. “Or else I’ll have to punish you.”

“Maybe I want to be punished,” you replied. 

“Alright,” he sighed. “You asked for it.” He unbuckled his belt and quickly pulled his pants along with his underwear, letting his massive cock spring free. 

He rolled a condom onto it and before you realized what was happening, he pounded it into you, causing you to let out a loud moan. He gripped your hips, digging his fingers into your skin as he thrusted in and out. 

You looked up at him, watching his chest move as his breathing became labored. He was looking down at your with a devilish smirk and you didn’t like how he knew just how much you were enjoying yourself. Like he had you all figured out. By the end of the night, you’d know him like the back of your hand. You intended on it. 

“Oh my god,” you mewled. “So good.” 

“Look at you,” he said as his hands moved to your ass, his fingers digging into the skin so hard that they were definitely going to leave marks. “Taking it like such a good whore.” 

“If anyone’s the whore,” you said through labored breaths. “It’s you.” And he was. You knew he had a reputation around town and he was definitely living up the hype. So many women had talked about how good he was in bed and they were definitely right. Maybe if you were lucky, next time he’d actually invite you into his bed instead of the back of his car. 

Eddie was loving the way your were speaking to him. It always seemed like women just did what he wanted just because he was asking. But he loved that you spoke your mind and weren’t afraid to give it back to him. 

He gave your ass a rough slap and you gasped, but had to admit that you loved the sting. He somehow knew exactly how you liked being fucked and he didn’t even have to ask. 

“What did I tell you about talking back?” He asked, giving your ass another hard slap. He pounded into you again and again, your sounds becoming music to his ears. He had fucked more women than he could count, but you were definitely becoming his favorite. 

“You didn’t say anything.” And he hadn’t. He had just told you that he didn’t like your tone. He retaliated by thrusting all of him inside of you and your vision went hazy for the second time as you felt another orgasm building. 

“Eddie,” you whined. “I think I’m gonna-” your words were cut off by a loud scream escaping your mouth. 

“That’s right, princess,” he cooed. “Let it out. God, look so fucking pretty on my cock.” His thrusts continued until he let out a scream of his own before slowing down. He then pulled out and disposed of the condom before untying you. 

“You wanna know where else I’d look pretty?” You asked, batting your eyelashes again. 

“Where?” He was trying to piece it together, but he couldn’t figure out what you were referring to. 

“On your face,” you replied, pushing him down so that his back was to the seat. 

“Fuck, okay,” he nodded enthusiastically as you hovered over him. You placed a messy kiss on his lips then he helped you place yourself onto his face. Your legs were spread wide so he had total access to your cunt and he could feel your slick all over his face, fully prepared to lick up every last drop once he was done. 

You held onto the handle that hung on the roof as his tongue moved back and forth across your slit. Moans already falling from your lips at the small action. He licked and sucked on the spot, moving you lower down his face just slightly so he could see just how undone you were becoming with just the movement of his tongue. 

“Eddie, shit,” you moaned and he saw that as an invitation to continue, moving his hands to your ass once more, digging his fingers into your cheeks.

His teeth grazed your cunt and you knew you were done for. The pressure on the sensitive spot was driving you absolutely wild and you would have been happy with him doing just that the whole night. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he shoved his tongue inside you, swirling it around until he hit just the right spot. 

“Fuck,” you mewled, throwing your head back as ecstasy rolling through you. You were feeling almost drunk, but you weren’t ready to give up just yet. Not when it was just getting good. 

Another scream fell from your lips and now your throat was feeling raw, but you still wanted to keep going. Especially when it felt so good. 

Eddie removed his tongue from you and went back to licking and sucking, wanting to lap up every last bit of your slick. You tasted absolutely divine, so much so that he could have eaten you out for hours. All the sounds you had made in response were all just a bonus. 

He brought his teeth back in again and you reached yet another orgasm, another scream tearing through you. This one was more intense than the others, taking every last bit of strength you had with it. You were suddenly feeling so tired and limp. 

Once he could see just how tired you were, he decided to call it quits. He helped you off of him then took some napkins from his glove compartment, cleaning the both of you up before getting you both dressed. 

He then helped you into the passenger seat, knowing that you were in no position to drive at the moment. You were too blissed out to even speak properly. God, he wished he could make you feel like that every night. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” He asked. “Or we could go back to my place. Whichever you prefer.” 

“Your place,” you responded a little too quickly. “For sure.” 

“Good,” he nodded, placing his hand on your thigh as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Because that’s what I was hoping.” And he was. He was looking forward to letting you borrow some of his pajamas and snuggling with you in his bed. And in the morning, he was going to make you a big breakfast complete with everything you could have ever wanted. He was going to absolutely spoil you and you were going to eat it up. 

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

You are my heart you know? (hanjisung)

Tw: anxiety, panic attack

The last few feet till you get to park in your driveway seem to last for fucking ever. You keep blinking away your tears furiously, your blurry vision getting progressively worse as you can feel the sting of your own salt and makeup and sunscreen mixing in on your eyelids, slowly dropping into your eyes. Maybe some snot mixed in it as well.

You feel gross. You're pretty certain you also look just as gross as you feel with your 3 days post wash hair tied up in a loose ponytail, your forehead shiny with sweat, your clothes sticking to you with wet stains after you had to run to catch your train back from 8 and a half exhausting hours of work.

And then it started pouring and you got stuck in the traffic on your way back home from the train station and you were always a nervous driver with or without the rain so when you foot slipped on the breaks at a last second red light and the driver behind you aggressively slammed down on the horn you just lost it.

You started crying and breathing erratically as a full blown anxiety attack threatened to overwhelm you. You had gripped the steering wheel so tight your wrists started to hurt but you didn't care, you just needed to focus ahead on the road and get home as soon as possible, you desperately tried to puff out your cheeks while breathing in and then slowly blow them out as you concentrated on breathing out, the rhythmic motion momentarily helping you calm down just long enough for you to safely reach home.

With your car now safely turned off and the hand brake set, you finally let it all out. The overflowing tears, the shaky hands, the tremble on your lips. You lean forward on the wheel and cover your face with your hands, sobbing and shaking in your seat as anxiety engulfs you at last.

Thinking it was just exhaustion at first, you presumed you were just having a bit of a meltdown from all the stress and chaos and the insomnia that had gripped your mind for over a month now, but then the spiraling over thinking took over and the awful awful feeling of being on the verge of collapsing from the inside out followed and you knew you just had been bottling in too much.

This episode was just all the other anxiety episodes combined together after weeks of repressing and pushing them back down and swallowing down the knot in your throat while at work for many more times than you can actually recollect.

The slightly distorted sound of your ringtone suddenly cuts in the relative quietness of your car and you're forced to shake off the worst of your panicky state and take a deep breath despite your chest constricting on itself and your fast heartbeat that made it feel like you could not inhale enough oxygen at a time.

"Hey baby! I can see your in the drive way, why don't you come in? ", Han's bright and chirpy voice fills your ear and for a second you smile, though the tears fly straight in your mouth and you quickly dab the back of your hand on your cracked lips, tasting the sweat and tears collecting there, "h-hi", you croack, forcing down another sob and just hoping he did not catch onto the strain in your tone.

"I'm right outside. I'm - I'm looking for something that fell from my purse, I'll be there in a sec", you add and it's all you can manage to say without sounding too sospicious before you cover your mouth once again, muffling the sound of you chocking on your own tears the best you can, "sure... Okay", Han doesn't sound too convinced on the other end of the line but he doesn't press on and the call is over before you can even click on the red phone button.

Sighing, you reach for your purse, slip your phone inside it but your hands are too shaky and it slides right down the underside of the passenger seat and even if you scramble to catch it, accidentally bumping your hand on the shift, you distinctly hear it rattle down the rails beneath the seat, the screen definitely cracking on impact and it takes all within you not to just scream your lungs out in frustration. You just cry even harder.

And it comes heavily. A downpour on your cheeks and your neck and your lap. You wail like an actual infant and loose control of your breathing as it goes spasmodic, your chest cramping and your throat burning with the effort: "alright, that's it. That's enough". Han's swift arms are around you in a millisecond.

He comes out of nowhere and you barely register what's happening, you just find yourself all pressed up against him, his arms wrapping tightly around you, "looking for something that fell from your bag ay?", he chuckles softly, a bittersweet edge to his tone as he carefully manouvers you out of your seat and then out of the car as well, not once letting go of you.

The short walk from your car to your front door feels like a daze. You can feel the rain coming down on you, your hair getting damp and wet and then your clothes becoming so heavy and freezing, your boyfriend arms never leaving your shoulders and your back, the feeling of his fingertips on your neck, something about being in a hurry spoken so softly the sound of the rain drowns it out.

Once you are both inside Han wastes no time and just throws himself at you, hugging you so tight you might just crumble into his embrace, wet hair and drenched clothes and all. Neither of you cares. He lets you cry into his neck and his shirt and his hair and doesn't complain once, he doesn't even flinch, he just quietly rubs soft circles on your back, "I know it's not okay right now, but I'm right here, I'm not leaving you, I'm never leaving you, it's going to be okay".

If the floodgates hadn't already opened hearing him talk like that makes you clutch onto him as a way to restrain yourself from crying even harder, if it was even possible, and there's a bit of relief in your cries but there's also still the bulk of unresolved panic pooling in your heaving chest.

Han knows what to do. He's done it a thousand times. Either while dealing with his own anxiety or yours, he just knows it a little too well. It's like second nature to him, he knows whether you need to be actively brought back out of the tunnel or if he just needs to stay by your side until the worst is over, it's like he can sense it before even you know what you even need him to do.

This time you did manage to survive the worst part on your own, you're not feeling completely helpless or like you're about to pass out like you did only a few moments earlier, getting out of the car and actively moving helped with that. But you are still stuck in the loophole, you are still feeling miserable and weak, with claws closing in at your throat. So he focuses on just calming you down.

He guides you on the couch, unzips his jacket and throws it over your shoulders and then he gently grabs one of your hands, rubbing each of your fingers until they stop shaking so much, "I like your hands...", he speaks softly, his eyes level with yours, "you always say how you like mine...", he sighs gently, lowering his voice jut above a whisper, "but yours are so pretty, your fingers are slender and your nails are always colorful and sparkly, I think rings look really nice on you",he continues, now holding your other hand, rubbing his fingertips around the two rings you keep on your pinky and your pointer, "I mostly like how you use your hands though. I like how gentle they are, like when you brush my hair or when you stroke my face and my shoulders".

His voice is hypnotic, his tender massage so soothing. Soon enough your breathing has gone fully back to normal, the aching in your chest is still there but it has subsided a little, your shaking has stopped, your heartbeat has slowed down. You are slowing down. You blink a few times and smile a weak, toothless smile smile at him, and he kisses your hand, from the palm to the tip of your longer middle finger, "you're feeling a little better?", he asks quietly, you nod and clear your throat, "y-yeah. Just a bit...hollow".

Han nods sympathetically for he knows exactly what you mean. Anxiety does that. It carves you out from the inside leaving you feeling so empty and exhausted, all of your senses rendered numb and cotton like after an intense, overwhelming trigger than rilled them all up.

"You should rest for a while. You must feel so tired", he offers, and you nod, already holding back a yawn, your energy does feel completely depleted now, like you could easily just sleep for 10 hours straight and still feel immensely exhausted. "How about you go and change into something warmer and then climb into bed mmh? I'll make you some sleepy time tea, that'll help".

Quietly, you drag yourself upstairs and wash up a little, making sure to really scrub your face, towel dry your rain soaked hair and spritz dry shampoo in your roots, feeling too tired to even get in the shower right now. Once you're cleaner and warmer in an oversize hoodie and pajama shorts, you climb into bed: you stretch out your arms and your legs, the tension finally leaving your limbs and as you close your eyes briefly, you feel like you can breathe again. Like you had been waiting to just lay down the whole day and now you're finally allowed to.

Except that your chest still hurts. There's a cramp there that just won't go away. A skip in your heartbeat that picks up pace a little too fast. The ominous seed of restlessness luring in the back of your head.

Han steps inside as if one cue, he's changed into comfier clothes as well and as he places a streaming mug of what looks like moon milk tea, he eyes you shifting on the mattress, spotting your hoodie as it pokes through the duvet, "that's not warm enough. It's so old and worn out it has holes in it", he whines, making you giggle. The first happy sound to come out of you in at least 12 hours.

He takes off his own cardigan, a cream colored woolen and extremely soft one, and basically forces you to put it on as you sit up in order to drink your tea: "thank you",you mumble, enjoying the sweetness of your drink and the comfort of his cardigan embracing your upper body, "of course, you already got soaked in rain I can't have you catching a cold like that", he pouts, and you shake your head softly, putting your mug on the nightstand for now.

Breathing deeply, a lot more regularly now, you speak softly, pouring out every bit if emotion into what you say, "no, I mean thank you. For everything. You really know how to take care of me. In every single way. I never felt as comforted and well looked after before I met you", you confess, your voice a little shaky for you never expressed this kind of gratitude to him, not this explicitly anyway.

Han smiles at you warmly and strokes your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly on your chin, "I wasn't just saying things earlier, I wasn't just trying to calm you down. I mean it. I will always be here for you", his eyes go shiny and full and he smiles so sweetly you start to think he might just get teary any second now, and you might too, "... I'll always care for you, not matter what... you are my heart, you know?".

You feel your insides melting away and in a second your lips are on his and the way you kiss oh the way you two kiss it's like you're both trying to convey just as much love and care as your own words do.

Something in your chest tugs at you as you pull him closer, the more his chest presses against yours the more it quiets down, the more he holds you to him the more that ache shrivels. You lay down on your back, pulling him on top of you, your reflexes instantly kicking in as your legs wrap up around him instinctively, by muscle memory.

And even though there's necessarily not that much urgency or lust in the way you two are still kissing and tangling your limbs together, you do find yourself panting a little when Han pulls away ever so slightly, "are you okay?", he asks quietly, his elbows resting on each side of your head, eyes travelling down to the hand pressing on your chest, directly on your heart that beats so fast and aches the minute he's not sticking to you, "please hold me, please just hold me", you plead softly, and he happily abides, his whole body settling nicely on top of yours like a warm, weighted blanket.

Comfort. You're engulfed in his arms and his scent and the familiar, pleasant weight of his warm body on top of yours. And the ache stops. It immediately stops. All your muscles go putty like, your senses alight in warmth and softness, your mind shuts down, your whole body finally fully relaxing into bliss.

[fairytsuk1]

i NEED to hug alex so bad i know that boy gives life changing cuddles

cuddling with alex ...

[morning]

it's way too early for your alarm, something you muse after a song blares right into your sanctuary of warmth and alex and soft sheets. you can barely see the snooze button, but you slam your thumb down and shut your eyes to eagerly try to savor the last few minutes of slumber. alex shifts, and you feel a bit of guilt in your chest as you know it definitely disturbed him, too.

"so early," he barely can breathe out, eyes still shut as he battles for consciousness, "too early."

"i forgot to turn it off, 'm sorry," you whisper to fluttering eyelashes.

he doesn't reply and at first you wonder how it's possible to look so cute in one's sleep. he catches you. an eye opens and then closes before he pulls you even closer to him.

your hearts are touching. chest to chest. can he hear yours beating? as though your bodies were meant for each other, little air pockets and gaps flit out of existence until you are both molded against each other. if your skin could fuse, you're sure it'd be this beautiful mix of brown, and it'd smell like vanilla with a hint of spice.

the two of you are one.

"stop thinking and sleep, already."

"don't tell me what to do," you chide.

he doesn't have the energy to do it now, oh, but he'll chide you. he makes this fact known with a squeeze to your ass that makes you giggle. the squeeze turns to soft strokes, to barely there touches, to soft snores, and then peaceful nothingness.

[afternoon]

it's after his stream that alex seeks you out like a moth to a flame. he peeks his head into every room before finding you lounging in the front room. you're too occupied with your phone to notice his feline mannerisms emerging as he prepares to pounce.

"oof, i didn't see you coming!"

"i know, i'm sneaky like that. what are you up to, what's going on?"

alex eagerly worms his way into your space. he's absolutely unashamed to wrap his arms around your waist and take a deep inhale of your sweet, sweet perfume. you respond between peppered kisses before probing about his own stream.

he's a bit muted. closed up. he doesn't want to talk about it, he'd rather sigh into your skin and squeeze you tighter, "quiero relajarte con ti."

"bueno, lo que quieras," you sink a bit further into the couch.

you show him memes on your phone and funny tweets, and alex makes funny voices and kisses your beauty marks. it's light. with every breath you take, you're on cloud fucking nine.

[post-coital]

it's rare you get to have him like this. so many emotions, feelings, and stressors run through his caramel skin and into his veins. he can be so quiet. pensive.

other times, like this, he's all mush in your arms. he lets his hair sit sweaty against his forehead; his skin glistens and stretches as he pulls out of you. your bodies had connected in a rhythm that was rich and succulent.

alex loved having you pliant under his fingers, moans making your ribs heave from pleasure as his hips met yours over, and over, and over.

"felt so good, 'lex," you curl further into him, pulling him closer as if he'll leave. "feeling so sleepy. so... satisfied."

he doesn't respond at first. alex only looks at your form, utterly vulnerable and laid bare for him. it could take eons, and he could never get enough of you.

both of you caress each other, knowing with any wrong movement, the heartache would be so intense you'd have no other option but to crumble from it.

thankfully for both of you, there was a love embedded in every stroke of skin, every kiss, and every cuddle.

[dwaekkicidal]

Day 4

˚ʚHwang Hyunjin x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Day 3 of my 1K follower celebration! Today is sensory depravation with Hyunjin ♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count:

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, blindfold use, sensation play: sensory deprivation and temperature play (ice), fingering, squirting

Read the other days here!

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

After teasing you with what felt like hours of foreplay, your lover menacingly asked you if you trusted him. To which you replied with a very blatant yes. The look in his eyes should have given away that he was in that kind of mood tonight but, of course, you realized it all too late.

Now, everything was silent. Scarily so, and you knew you would be freaking out had you not trusted your boyfriend with your whole life. The busy streets around your neighborhood were unusually quiet tonight. What? Did he pay the whole fucking city to stay home?

You almost laugh at the silly idea but you're cut off by a sudden cold hand on your thigh that causes your breath to catch. He squeezes once and then, once he’s sure your focus is where he wants it, he slowly moves upwards. His fingers ghost along your inner thigh and leave a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

His fingers slowly make their way to your pussy, where he just barely slides his hand over the wet skin. His hand is slowly warming up against your skin, but it's still cold enough to make you shiver. He goes over it slower than he did your legs and then moves his hands up to your chest.

There, he grabs a handful of your boobs and squeezes it tightly, huffing out a quiet laugh at the way your legs clench. Then, just as suddenly as they touched you, his hands are completely removed from you. You think he'll return them soon after but after a few seconds too long, his hand still doesn’t return.

You start whining and wiggling for more, making the handcuffs that dig into your back jiggle loudly. Once your small fit was over, Hyunjin waited until it was completely silent to slap his hand on your thigh. The suddenness of it started you more than the pain hurt, and you gasped loudly. He runs his thumb over the flesh there to soothe any pain and then finally touches you with his other hand. Only, it’s not just his hand.

You squeak loudly at the feeling of a cold, wet surface circling your nipple. He shushes you and continues to move the ice cube around in messy circles. After a few second, he moves it to your other nipple and gives it the same attention, then he uses his finger to slowly drag the cube down the middle of your torso.

It slides between your boobs and down your stomach, making your back arch at how intense the cold felt. He teasingly circles your belly button before dipping it even lower. It leaves your skin for only a moment before it's sliding through your folds. You flinch away and it earns you another slap on the thigh, but he sympathetically removes the ice cube anyways.

Instead, he pops it in his mouth and wraps his pretty lips around your nipple, moving the cube around in random shapes with his tongue. The drastic difference between the heat from his mouth and the biting cold from the ice cube makes you moan pathetically into the air.

Behind the slurping sound of him sucking up the melted ice, you miss the sound of his hand entering a bowl of ice. It sits there playing with the ice for a moment before he grabs a smaller piece of ice and removes his hand. His still cold thumb rubs against your clit as his freezing middle finger plunges into your hole, shoving the tiny piece of ice in with it. Your legs slam shut and you moan at the feeling.

He chuckles at the feeling of you clench around him and watches your body closely as your chest rises and falls against his chin with each desperate and heavy breath. Wanting even more reactions from you, he shoves the ice cube against your G-spot without warning. “Hyunjin!” He smiles against the flesh of your nipple and leans backwards, finally freeing your tits from his touch so he can get a good look at you.

The hand previously on your nipple moves up to your face, sliding the blindfold up and off your face. His fingers curl into your walls as he allows your eyes to adjust. Once they do, he adds a second finger and slides his other hand to your chin where it rubs your bottom lip.

“How are you feeling, Angel?” You visibly shiver at the sound of his voice. It had felt like so long since you heard it and the sexy tone he used had you clenching around him again. He bites his lip and smirks, speeding up his fingers as he waits patiently for a response. “Jinnie.. Feels so good.”

He doesn’t speak up again, only smiles harder and adds a third finger to your walls. They assault your G-spot aggressively, pulling high-pitched moans from your mouth. The thumb on your bottom lip taps it twice before he slides his middle and ring finger into your mouth. You know what he wants and immediately obey, sucking the digits as much as possible when they push down on your tongue.

With your moans now muffled and the outside world seemingly paused, Hyunjin angles his wrist better and fingers you harder. The unusually silent environment only heightens the loud squelching noises, making them bounce off each of your bedroom walls. You begin to clench tightly and suck his fingers in as your orgasm flies at you like a train. Your legs shake dramatically, trying desperately to close around the hand between your legs. It takes everything in you to keep them apart but you manage, allowing you to gush around his fingers.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you breathe frantically as the feeling of your orgasm suddenly turns intense, all thanks to the merciless fingertips that continue to dig into your G-spot. Hyunjin removes his fingers from your mouth and sinks his fist into the mattress, using it as leverage to finger you even harder. Then, even more wet noises fill the room as you start to squirt around his hand. He rides it out until your legs eventually manage to clamp around his hand and force him to stop moving it.

Your breaths are heavy and frantic as you come down from the insane orgasm you were just put through. Hyunjin stays quiet as his hands trace wet shapes against your skin. You’re brought back to reality some time later with his lips showering your face in kisses and his hands rubbing up and down your sides soothingly. When he realizes you’re back from your little trip he just smirks against your temple.

“Welcome back, Angel. You did so well.”

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08

@grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 2 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: my exam took me out and I had the longest nap of my life but here’s part two!! <3

W/C: 3.757

part one

"No, I'm fine. You know, I get nauseous when we run around the stadium with a full stomach." I tell Luis as he offers me one of his packed sandwiches.

He hums, taking the last bite of his sandwich while observing the streets of beautiful Madrid,  looking comfortable in the passenger seat.

It was match day against Union Berlin, the first in the group stages of the Champions League. We were all pretty optimistic about it.

"Can you hand me some gum instead? It's in the glove box." I point, placing my hand back on my steering wheel as I take a left turn. The Santiago Bernabéu Stadium coming into sight.

He leans over, grabbing the blue packet of gum, quickly removing the plastic foil.

"How many pieces do you want?" He asks, crumpling the foil with his hand.

"Two please." I say, lowering the volume of the radio as we enter the staff parking lot of the stadium.

I notice him unwrapping the individual pieces of blue gum and extend my hand so he can place them in my palm. 

"Thanks." I mutter, popping them into my mouth after I manage to find a parking spot.

"When is the team arriving?" He asks as we step out to collect the camera equipment out of the trunk. I make sure to hand him his staff badge, clipping mine to my lanyard.

"Twenty minutes, I think." I say, helping him with the equipment bag. We quickly make our way towards the pitch, greeting fellow staff members. Luis sets the camera up as I check our drafts quickly.

We finally finish taking videos and pictures of the pitch after a few minutes, our staff badges hanging off our necks as we walk back inside to capture the players walking into the stadium.

"Okay, I've posted the Instagram stories. Mind if you take a look?" I ask Luis, showing him the short clips of the pitch and stadium.

"Looks fine, but you know you don't have to get it double-checked anymore. You've been doing this for a while now." He nudges me, expression reassuring.

"I know, just making sure." I say, analyzing the posts one more time. I didn't want anything to go wrong or look particularly weird, plus it would give Valeria a reason to complain about me.

We make sure to get good shots of the squad entering the stadium, following them out to warm up as well. Finally, we get to sit down when the match starts. We update the social media platforms of the club accordingly during halftime, just as planned.

So far, it was still a goalless game, prompting us to have higher expectations in the second half of the match.

Though, the second half isn't that much more climactic, but we all sit on the edge of our seats when extra time is announced. My finger hovering over the 'post' button of a 1-0 ‘X’ post.

Luis and I look at each other anxiously as we get awarded a corner. A commotion starts right before the net of Union Berlin, the ball bouncing back at first, and then GOALLL!

I practically slam the post button, the stadium erupting in cheers along with us. Finding it difficult to calm down, so we can focus on the last minutes of the game. With the assurance that we would win, Luis and I start packing our equipment quickly. It would make sure we could follow the team back into the tunnel and, of course, towards the changing room for the post-match interview.

"Who got Man Of The Match again?" I ask Luis, noticing a smirk form on his face immediately.

"It's Jude." He says, and I look at him with wide eyes, pulling an annoyed face.

"Really? Now I've got to interview him? It's going to explode his ego, like it can get any bigger..." I sigh, following Luis down the stands.

"You'll live." He mumbles, prompting me to sigh again, wishing I could speed up the next few minutes as if it were a boring Netflix show.

"Tell him to- put his shirt on." I urge Luis, nudging his arm, my hands falling to my side when he shakes his head.

We'd both already been in the changing room, and my eyes had caught multiple half-naked

players. Prompting me to exit instantly. I didn't want to intrude when the guys were changing for obvious reasons, so I walked myself out before things became really awkward. Though, they probably didn't care, I did.

"Why does it matter?" He asks, pushing my head away from his face.

"It's distra- or just say-"

"I'm ready."

I whip my head around, my head almost colliding with a hard chest. I quickly take a step back, a smug-looking Jude looking down at me.

What the fuck was he so tall for?

"Took you long enough." I mumble, rolling my eyes. Trying to pretend he didn't scare the crap out of me.

He scoffs, the ‘Player Of The Match’ award glimmering in his hand as if he's trying to show it off to me.

"Can we just do the interview so I can stop talking to her?" He says, looking at Luis. His eyebrows raising in question.

I click my tongue in annoyance, tapping my shoe against the ground impatiently. I watch Luis nod, his hand coming up to my shoulder as he pushes me closer to Jude.

I turn my head, looking at Luis confused. I mouth a 'what the fuck?' to him, his smirk getting wider as my arm collides with Jude's. A sudden panic and disgust creeping up to me.

"Let's just do it without my face." I blurt, immediately detaching myself from Jude's side, like he's a scorching fire ready to burn me.

I feel his eyes follow me as I walk to stand behind Luis. I fight to urge to kick the back of Luis's leg for whatever that was and just request him to start filming. Glad that the mic was already attached to the camera.

"3, 2, 1.." he counts down, pressing the record button. I try to fake my uppermost enthusiasm when I ask the questions to Jude. Watching his own expression change within milliseconds. It's like he wasn't just begging for the interview to start, so he could stop talking to me.

"¡Hala Madrid! ¡Buenos Noches!" He finally exclaims, raising the award excitedly. The interview finally ending.

The two minutes felt like an eternity, and he'd probably uttered the same sentence about 50 times now.

I sigh in relief, stepping back as I watch Jude and Luis give each other a handshake. We make eye contact for a split-second, my gaze cold as he looks at me with pure arrogance plastered on his face. Walking away to join his teammates, who had already walked out of the changing room.

"Can we go now?" I ask Luis, massaging my temples. He turns around, blankly staring at me. It creeps me out for a split-second.

"What?" I ask, frowning at him, folding my arms defensively.

"Nothing. It's late, let's go." He says, walking ahead of me. I watch him walk away for a couple of seconds, trying to decipher why he gave me that look. His back almost disappearing out of my sight before I knew it.

He walks past a couple players and staff members, them having their own conversations and being loud. Notably, Ancelotti walking with them.

I curse, clicking my tongue in annoyance. I start to walk fast, trying to catch up to Luis, who, at this point, wasn't even in my line of sight.

Suddenly, I hear Ancelotti call out my name, and I turn around like a deer in headlights. Slowly starting to consider leaving Luis in the parking lot, instead of driving him home.

"Something wrong?" I ask, looking at him cautiously.

Was I in trouble?

"Come here." He says, waving his hand. I look to his right, seeing a familiar group of players glance at me. It consisting of Vini, Cama, Aurelien, and Jude, again. Them laughing and banter amongst each other.

"Can you tell your father to call me? I need to speak with him." He adds, looking at me.

I nod, my expression changing to a less confused one, before reassuring him I would tell my dad.

"Then go on, it's getting late." He says, patting my shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

I smile at him, nodding and glancing at the guys next to him.

"Good game, guys! See you tomorrow." I say, fully in Spanish on purpose, waving and walking away as fast as I possibly can manage without looking crazy.

Luis was getting his ass left here, for sure.

"Dad! I'm home." I sing, taking my shoes off at the door, quickly storing them away in the shoe cabinet.

"I'm in the kitchen." He shouts back, and I make my way towards him.

"What are you doing?" I ask, seeing him stand in front of the open fridge.

"Grabbing dinner to heat up. You're hungry, right?" He says, and I nod, walking over to kiss his cheek in greeting.

"I'll do it, dad. You should go rest." I say, noticing him already dressed in his pajamas. I take the Tupperware of food out of his hands, placing it on the marble island.

"How was the match?" My dad asks, leaving to sit on one of the bar stools across from me.

"Good- we won." I say, pouring the tomato soup into a small pot. Placing it on the electric stove, before turning it on.

"I saw, Jude really saved the day. Amazing signing..." He chuckles.

My dad wasn't aware of the absolute disdain we had for each other, but I wouldn't want to bother him with it.

"Yeah, I guess he did." I mutter through my teeth, stirring the soup with a spoon. Making sure I don't scratch the surface of the pot.

"Oh! Mr. Ancelotti asked if you could call him. I think it's pretty important, since he asked me..." I remember, looking up at him from the stove.

"Why didn't he just call me?"

"Maybe, because you're always busy? He probably can't get a hold of you, or your secretary forgot to tell you. Which would be- weird." I say, watching him walk away to grab his personal phone off the dinner table.

"You're really calling him now? Dad, it's like ten at night. You need to stop thinking about work."

"It's alright, we're close enough." He says, calling the man of topic as he approaches the sliding glass door to the backyard, walking out.

I scoff in disbelief, shaking my head. I should've just told him tomorrow after breakfast.

I try to push those thoughts away, finally sitting down at the dinner table, putting on a binge-worthy show on the TV across from me. Enjoying my dinner with a can of Coke.

The ending credits of the episode and my empty bowl allow my mind to wander back to the day’s events. It was the first game of many for the Champions League. No doubt, our team would go far, we had a strong team with amazing support. I just hoped traveling while also studying could be manageable, especially this year.

I decide to give my brain a break from thinking critically, taking care of the dirty dishes, and sliding the backyard door open.

"Dad?" I call out, noticing him sitting on one of the pool lounge chairs. He turns to me, motioning for me to be quiet with a finger on his lip. I nod, mouthing a 'goodnight' and wave. He mouths it back, smiling at me. I nod, turning my back and walking up the stairs.

Arriving in my bathroom, I take a quick shower and do my nighttime skincare. Feeling very refreshed when I crawl into my bed, the silk pillowcase soft underneath my head as my eyes flutter shut.

The atmosphere today at the training center is very off.

Instead of the players looking happy and excited after their win yesterday, they look somber and tired. The vibe is gloomy, despite the sun shining brightly since early this morning.

Especially the younger guys. I didn't know what was wrong yet. They greeted me halfheartedly, unlike normally, and even Jude himself didn't give me one of his daily, annoying, egoistic looks.

I had asked around, and most other staff members told me they noticed the same, so it definitely wasn't just me making things up in my own head.

Maybe, just maybe, nosy Lina had some information.

I grab a tray, walking along the lunch buffet, and getting my food. I didn't want to bother fussing over all the options today, just opting to go for my usual. I don't forget to grab my drink, an Americano, iced this time to combat the September heat.

I look up to find Lina, my eyes finally catching her wavy, dirty blonde hair at our usual table, as I make my way towards her.

"Hey! Haven't seen you today. What's up?" I say, hugging her. I had been busy filming the recovery exercises of the players with Luis in the gym.

"Finished editing the footage you and Luis took yesterday." She says, smiling at me. Moving a lock of hair behind her pierced ear.

"Was the footage usable?" I ask, looking at my plate of food before looking back at her.

"Yeah, good as always. Posted it on YouTube already." She answers, and I turn to her after swallowing my bite of pancakes.

"Was the interview alright? Did it sound like we wanted to kill each other?"

"It was surprisingly good! You two just have that onscreen chemistry." A smile pulls at her lips, the outrageous statement causing me to freeze for a moment.

"Carolina! Don't ever say that again, please." I use her full name, giving her a look of disgust while shaking my head, horrified.

I hear her laugh mid-bite, she practically starts choking on her food. Prompting me to pat her back semi-aggressively. She finally calms down when I bring her drink up to her lips.

"Can I ask you something? It's about something completely unrelated." I say, changing the topic and looking around for any eavesdroppers.

"Go ahead." She says, clearing her throat for a moment.

"Have you noticed the younger guys- are acting a little off?" I say, choosing my words carefully, watching her eyes light up almost instantly.

She definitely knew what was up.

She nods, pulling me closer by my shoulders, and whispers into my ear.

"Apparently, last night after the match, the guys went to celebrate at a restaurant. When they dropped Jude off at his home- and I'm saying just what I have overheard. Someone tried to break into his place." She whispers, and I pull back to give her a bewildered expression.

"You're serious?" I ask, raising my brows.

"Yeah, something about his window being broken and a note being left."

"A stalker?" I ask, taking a sip of my coffee.

She nods, pulling away from me.

"That's what I've heard. Apparently, this wasn't the first time it happened, it being the second time already. The younger players probably feel bad for Jude. They've all gotten pretty close and are probably worried about his, but also their safety." She explains.

Despite the bad blood between Jude and me, I had the heart to feel a little bad for him. I had morals at the end of the day.

"Doesn't his mom live with him?" I ask, recalling what I've heard around.

"She wasn't home, thankfully."

"That's good, at least." I reply, looking away for a moment.

"He'll probably have to start a legal process.." She adds, and I return my attention back to her.

"Where did you even hear all of this?"

"A good gossiper never reveals their sources."

"y/n, could you come here for a moment?" I hear Hugo speak. The head of PR and marketing for the club. Whom I had the opportunity to grow pretty close to last season.

I place the folders in my hand back on my desk, walking over to him curiously.

"What is it?" I ask, looking at the grey haired man. He's smiling, so it must be positive?

"I'm sure you're aware I chose you to provide content during matches, but also the match preparations this season, along with Luis."

I nod, eagerly waiting for his point to be made.

"I've seen what you and Luis put out yesterday. I'm very pleased so far, especially the interview with Jude. Feedback has been great online. Looked very nice and casual."

"Thank you, we tried our best to create the best content. I honestly couldn't have done it without Luis." I quickly say.

That was true, I don't think I could've done the interview without Luis, even though he was being a little weird about it.

Why was everyone obsessed with that interview anyway? It was just a normal, run-of-the-mill interview I did most of the time.

"Right, extend my praises to him as well. As you know, the CEO of Apple will be visiting us on Saturday. I'd like for you and Luis to capture the moment. Would you want that?"

Meeting the CEO of Apple, Tim Cook?

I would be crazy to refuse.

"Of course, I'm sure Luis would also appreciate the opportunity. Could you send us the details via email later?"

This was definitely a dream come true, especially for tech-nerd Luis. He looked up to these CEOs for inspiration all the time.

After the conversation with Hugo ends, I decide to finally clock out. I walk down the stairs, my bag slung around my arm as my eyes are glued to my phone. Wondering how Luis would react to the news.

I couldn't tell him in person since he wasn't on site at the moment. So, texting would have to suffice.

I reach the last few steps, my shoes stomping against them, finally taking a right at a corner.

Suddenly, my shoulder painfully crashes against another body. My bag falling on the floor, along with my phone which flies out of my hand.

I look up instantly, eyes locking with someone I don't recognize by name, but have definitely seen around. He's dressed in a brown T-shirt with some dark blue jeans, interesting wear for the weather today. He did look a couple years older, something like late twenties or early thirties.

I clutch onto my arm, trying to ease the pain as I start to apologize profusely. I want to be rude so bad, but I hold my words back with everything in me.

I wasn't watching where I was going, but still, he could have heard me stomp down the stairs.

"No, it's fine. It happens." He says, no actual emotions detectable in his voice. I reach down to grab my bag off the floor. Watching him bend down to grab my phone, which had landed on the floor about a meter away from me.

I stand back up, holding my bag with my unhurt arm.

"Here." He says blankly, handing me my phone. 

"Thank you." I say, grabbing the device. His cold fingers unexpectedly graze against mine, making me shudder as it creeps me, the fuck out.

I did not like whatever that was...

He was holding my phone right at its base, how did his hands even touch mine?

He looks at me for a second, his blue eyes piercing into my soul, as he then walks off, not saying another word. Leaving me standing there in confusion.

I snap out of my trance quickly, trying to forget whatever that interaction was. Finally, walking up to my car and unlocking it.

Most players and staff had left already. Recovery day was so fun, only because it meant getting off early.

After pondering for a few seconds, I decide to just visit my dad's law firm instead of going home directly. Mostly, because I hadn't been there in a while. I could see him, and work on my essay there at the same time.

Maybe, I could also convince the other lawyers there to give me feedback on my essay.

I connect my phone to the car, clicking on my current favorite playlist and increasing the volume of the speakers. Knowing my favorite songs could keep me company while I drove through the city.

I grab my own set of keys out of my bag after arriving. My dad had given it to me, so I could enter and leave the firm whenever I wanted. Giving me the freedom of not having to knock or press the intercom when I visited.

I insert the key in the keyhole of the front door, trying to twist it. I frown as the key doesn't actually twist, making me wonder if the lock was changed. I pull the key out, inserting it again, and try to twist the key.

I sigh as it doesn't work, looking around to see if anyone is staring at me. Only because I definitely looked like I was some stupid robber trying to break in, in broad daylight.

Thankfully, no one is looking my way, so I continue to struggle with the door. Mumbling some curse words in annoyance, a frown settling in between my brows.

I breathe in, inserting the key again, readjusting my grip on the doorknob as I twist the key. I push the door at the same time, the door unexpectedly flying open. My weight presses against the door as I fall inside, clutching onto the door handle for dear life. My ankle rolls painfully, and I let out a pained wince.

I hear a loud groan as I try to stabilize myself. I raise my brows confused, seeing my dad lean over to ask a guy who's cradling his head if he's alright.

I just slammed the door into a client’s face.

A mortified expression forms on my face as I realize the situation I caused. I immediately walk over to place a hand on the guys shoulder, apologizing repeatedly. My dad giving me the most disappointed look to date.

I glance over to the woman next to my dad, recognizing her within a heartbeat.

"Denise?" I ask, eyes widening in confusion. If she's here, then...

I notice my victim raise his head, a pained groan leaving him. We make sudden, unexpected eye contact. I freeze in shock and confusion, a little disgust following at the realization of who he is.

"Jude?"

"y/n?"

[capsicle-evans]

The Make Believe Ms Evans

Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: A PR marriage between Y/N and Chris Evans has skyrocketed their careers but their sex lives has never been this low. Up until now.

Warnings: unprotected sex, swearing

Series Master Post

Part 1, Part 2

“Jesus fucking Christ, can you hurry the fuck up?” I slam on the bathroom door. We should’ve been out the door like 5 minutes ago. “What is taking you so long?”

Chris yanks the door open, an exasperated look on his face. “Can you stop screaming like a fucking banshee?”

“We are going to be late, you idiot” I glare at him as he starts placing the buttons of his shirt in place.

Chris is in the promotional tour of his new movie so Polly secured an interview with Jimmy Kimmel because that’s always a success. “Shut up and just help me with the tie, Y/N” Chris rolls his eyes and steps back so that I can move between him and the bathroom counter.

“Fucking man child” I groan as I bring my hands up to his neck, placing the tie neatly around his neck. “One would think you would know by now how to do this”

“Stop complaining” Chris grins as he stretches his hands to grab my thigh. He pushes his hand under my dress, slowly making his way up my skin.

“What are you doing?” I look down, my hands forgetting about his tie and moving to his hand.

“Shut up” Chris stops my hands, pinning them behind my back with ease with just one of his hands. The other removes the half done tie around his neck. “Don’t fight me, Y/N”

Before I can ask again what he is doing, he ties both of my hands and brings up my skirt. “Stop, Polly and Claire could be here any minute now”

“Y/N, please for once in your life” Chris pulls down my panties before stepping back enough to release his member from his pants. “Shut up”

I want to fight him. God knows how much I want to fight back. But I want to fuck him more.

“Open up” Chris orders me as his thumb tugs at my bottom lip. When I do so, he pushes his index finger into my mouth, hard against my tongue. I wrap my lips around his finger, bobbing my head back and forth. “Such a good girl”

I feel my pussy clench at the praise so I push my hips forward, the tip of his dick gliding against my stomach.

“So eager” Chris groans before removing his finger from my mouth. He grabs my hip with the other hand to pull me closer as the his finger dips down into my throbbing pussy. “God, so wet” Chris moans against my ear as he lets his head rest in my shoulder.

I bite into his neck as he pumps hard and fast into me, me legs shaking under me. “Are you ready for me?”

“Mhm” I whine. Chris pulls his finger out and lines himself into my entrance, the head of his cock getting coaxed with my juices. Before I can complain, he pushes himself into me in one swift motion. My head falls back at the sudden feeling of fullness and the sting that rips my walls.

Chris grabs my ass to use as leverage to pump faster into me. I twist around, trying to touch him but the tie behind my back restricting my every move. “Release me”

“Be a good girl and stay still, Y/N” Chris shakes his head and brings one of my legs up around his waist to have a better access into me.

I start to whimper against his hear as hi dips one finger in between our bodies to massage my clitoris. I’m about to moan when we here the door of our room slam shut. “Y/N? Chris? We are running late” Polly calls out from the outside of the bathroom so Chris quickly places his hand over my mouth to stop any illicit sound. I wait for him to stop but his movements are still persistent and hard, in fact he only gains speed.

“In a sec” Chris shouts back and goes back to rubbing my clit. I feel the pressure in me almost reaching its peak so I bite into his hand to stop myself from screaming. “Just finishing up”

“Do you know where’s Y/N?” Polly asks back.

“Probably at the bar or something” Chris grabs both of my legs so that I’m wrapped around him and the new angle sends me over the edge. My eyes roll back and I start shaking against Chris as the waves of pleasure take over my every senses. “You should go check”

I don’t catch the rest of the conversation, my mind still spinning from my orgasm and Chris’ dick still inside of me as he looks for his release.

“I’m so close” Chris hides his face in my neck to muffle his moans. It only takes a few more pumps into me and then I feel the warmth of Chris’s cum coaxing my walls. Thank god I’m on the pill because the sensation of being filled up is so hot it almost pushes me to my edge again.

“Give me a sec” Chris pulls out and I feel his cum dripping down my legs. He pulls a towel from the rack and cleans me up before doing the same with himself. “All done”

“Care to release me?” I race my eyebrow at him. Chris chuckles, totally forgetting that he had me tied back.

“There you go” He removes his tie only to place it smoothly back in his neck. He zips his pants back and reapplies his cologne before turning back at me. I’m still collecting myself from my orgasm so I just lay back on the counter. “Hurry up, are are going to me late”

He ducks just in time to miss the hair brush that was headed straight for his head.

***

“So Chris” Jimmy taps his fingers a long the wooden table in front of him. “You brought your lovely wife with you this time”

“Yeah” Chris smiles, turning his face towards the audience. “She is my support system and I wanted to have her with me here”

“We haven’t seen much of you two since you guys got married” Jimmy gives him a raised eyebrow and and I can feel Polly tense next to me as we watch from a VIP section of the audience.

“I mean you said it yourself, Jimmy” Chris brings up his hand to his jaw, a wicked smirk on his face. “We just got married, we don’t leave the house much”

My cheeks burn hot as the camera pans to me, the room erupting with teasing screams. I shake my head, laughing as Jimmy calls out my blush. “You are gonna get in trouble for that one, Mister”

“I hope so” Chris nods his head at Jimmy, hyping the crowd even more. He laughs before waving his hands up. “I need to stop pushing my luck here”

“Yeah, that’s a wise decision” Jimmy chuckles before turning towards you. “Y/N, please go easy on him”

“I’ll try, Jimmy, I’ll try” I give him a cheeky smile. “I make no promises tho”

***

“It’s nice to see you get along” Claire breaks the silence as we drive through the city of New York. The car zooms through the busy streets and the crowded sidewalks, the city lights brightening the sky. “Chris, you did good today”

“Yeah it’s nice to see you not at each other’s throat” Polly adds as she types away on her phone.

Chris leans in to whisper in my ear. “I mean I did have you by the throat yesterday” His voice sends shivers down my spine as it bring back memories of the eventful morning we had before we went to the airport.

“What’s that?” Polly looks up, thinking Chris was talking to her.

“Nothing” He leans back away from me. “Just talking to myself”

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us for dinner?” Claire turns to me as the driver pulls up outside our hotel.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna get room service and head to bed” I give her a reassuring smile as Chris opens up the car door, the flashes going off immediately. “But you two enjoy your night out”

Chris steps out, stretching his arm to help me out of the car. His arm goes around me to guide into the hotel, making sure that the paps aren’t to close to us.

“is it true you are getting a divorce?” one paparazzi asks me as he steps right in front of me. If it weren’t for Chris’s arm around me, I would’ve tripped as I bumped against the unknown man.

“Hey, stay the hell away from her” Chris pulls me tight against his chest as I try to squeeze around the crowd of people. Our bodyguards start pushing people away, making way for us to run into the hotel lobby.

“You okay?” Chris pants as we are finally inside.

“Yeah, just scratched myself a little against his camera, that’s all” I check my arm as 2 lines start forming over my skin, just a bid of blood making its way to the surface. “Ill be fine”

“Let’s just get to our room” Chris nods, grabbing my hand as he notices that everyone in the lobby is looking at us. “Honey”

I try to swallow down the laugh that wants to erupt from my chest. “God you are si stiff” I whisper only for him to hear.

“Oh shut up” He grins, not looking down at me as we head for the elevator.

Once inside, just the two of us, Chris release my hand and puts his into his pockets. “So what do you want for dinner?”

“I don’t know” I twist my mouth. “Not that hungry really”

“How about some wine and cheese platter?” Chris asks. “I saw one on the menu last night”

“Yeah, i think that would be nice” I nod as the elevator dings, signaling we’ve reached our floor.

We walk in silence towards our shared suite, only the clacking of our shoes breaking through the silence that rules over the hallway. One we’ve reached our door, Chris places his card on the reader and holds the door open for me. “Why don’t you go change and I’ll order the food”

“Thank you” I give his chest a soft pat before walking to the bathroom.

Since we cannot get away with having different rooms book for us, I usually sleep on the bed and Chris takes the fold up bed or just crashes on the couch.

I strip out of my jumpsuit, hills tossed somewhere in my room. “White or red?” Chris pops his head through the door as he pushes the phone away from his lips.

“Red” I turn to him as unhook my bra and let it fall to the floor.

“Jesus christ” Chris rubs his hand through his arm as his eyes fall down to my naked chest. “Please just knock and leave the food outside. We might be busy”

“Christopher” I blush as the poor lady at the end of the phone gets mortified by Chris. “Don’t say that”

“Why?” He grins as he tosses the phone somewhere in my bed before stepping in the bathroom. “Did I lie?”

“I mean no but-“ My mind betrays me as I follow the movement of his hands.l, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Maybe we don’t need food tonight” Once done with his shirt, his hands move to my hips, pulling me to him. “We can just eat each other”

“Chris I-“ I try to fight him but his lips come down to my neck, his tongue darting out to taste the saltiness of my skin.

“What do you think?” Chris whisper hot against my ear. “Don’t you want me to fuck you against the counter? Just like this morning?”

I try to answer but when his fingers pinch at my nipple, any thought I had, just went out the window.

***

“Favorite place to be?” I ask Chris as I press a green grape against my bottom lip.

“Mhm” He brings his glass down from his lip. “I love Boston, my whole family is there”

“Besides Boston” I roll my eyes. Everyone knows Chris loves Boston. When we got married, his only request was that Boston remain as our principal house, my house in LA just to be used for when we had to be there for the job.

Chris scratches at his beard, thinking deeply. “Venice, I think”

“Really?” I beam. “I want to go there sometime. Amsterdam, too”

“You’ve never been there?” Chris asks, slowly moving his glass in circles.

“Nope” I shake my head. “I didn’t have the money before and now I don’t have the time”

“Yeah, I get that” He nods his head before bringing his glass back up to his lips. We stay in the comfort of our silence.

I feel weird when it’s just Chris and I. Well, when we are not fucking. We are used to just fighting each other, and now, having sex. Small talk isn’t really our strongest side.

I’m about to excuse myself when Chris breaks the silence. “Why did you agree?”

“On what?” I look back at him but his eyes are fixated on the bottle in front of him.

“To marry me” His eyes snap back at me. “To do the whole fake thing”

“I-I” I stutter a bit, his question catching me off guard. “I mean Claire sold me on the whole ‘it’s whats best for your career’ thing, so I agreed, I guess”

“Do you ever regret it?” He follows up his question, never taking his eyes away from me.

Where the hell is this coming from? We’ve never discussed this topic so openly. “Do you?” I sit up straighter, not longer feeling comfortable in my sprawled position.

“No” He answers immediately. “To be honest I didn’t care much about it”

“Then why are you asking me all of this?” I move to place the glass of wine over the coffee table.

“I’m in my 40s, if anything, marrying you got people off my back” He finally shifts his focus to the bottle of wine, probably feeling a bit uncomfortable with the way my eyes are scanning his every move. “Every time I had an interview, all they wanted to talk about was if I was planning on settling down, having kids and what not”

“But now they ask about me” I frown, not really seeing the difference.

“But because they want in in the gossip, no longer out of expectations” He sighs, chugging the rest of his wine. “But you are young, you… You could have anything you wanted, whoever you wanted. Why settle for this?”

“I’m not settling, Chris” I turn my body to face him, his side profile greeting me. “Shit, we might not be a happy lovely marriage but we respect each other, I, at least, admire your work. And yeah we used to fight a lot but I’ve always known that if I need a favor, I can count on you. That’s a lot more than what other people have”

“Yeah, I guess” Chris finally looks back into my eyes, a softer gaze taking over his eyes. “But don’t you ever want to go to go out with guys your age or something?”

“Chris, I’ve dated people before” I chuckled. “And trust me, you’ve given me more orgasms in the last 48 hours than they ever did”

Chris tries to hold back the grin on his face but fails miserably when I give him a little shove. “Don’t let it get to your ego, grandpa”

“I make no promises” Chris smirks, grabbing a hold of my thigh.

“Oh no, mister” I push his hand away, standing up and away from him. “You are going to leave me all sore! Give me a break”

“Fine” He rolls his eyes at me before also standing up. “In that case, leave. You are taking up my bed”

“Good night, grandpa” I pat his chest before turning around. “Make sure you get a good sleep, we don’t want you all grumpy in the morning”

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

Part 2 is up🩷

Tag List: @talesofadragon @patzammit @rainyhort10-blog @cutedisneygrl @creae7881

[i-write-but-only-sometimes]

Girlfriend | Stardew Valley Sebastian/F!Reader

Synopsis – Sebastian finds out that Sam is dating the farmer. Nice guys finish last.

Content Warnings – masturbation, creepy incel stalker behavior, excessive swearing, jealousy/pining

Author's Note – This is my first time posting a fic online and not just leaving it to rot in my Drive. I'm working on varying my sentence structure and hope the next one will be better!

**MINORS DNI**

The slamming of the basement door echoed through the dim, musty basement. Seb raked his fingers through his hair, grunting “Fuck!” through gritted teeth. The large case that had been slung around his shoulder clattered to the ground, with no regard to whether the keyboard inside would be damaged. Seb rolled his chair back and practically threw himself into it, pulling forward to boot up his PC. Frantic mouse-clicking and key-tapping eventually led him to his best friend’s Instagram profile. This fucking asshole.

Under the username, sam.i.am.01—how lame is that?—in his bio, was the final nail in Seb’s coffin. ‘Taken :)’. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Seb selected the first post, accidentally missing the image a few times before it blew up on the screen. Just a generic beach picture? He clicked the arrow taking him through the slides, ignoring the “cool" shells and sunset views until he got to one photo in particular. Sam and the farmer on the beach. She smiled as he kissed her cheek, both of them glistening, covered in beads of salty water as the ocean behind them reflected a perfect day. The caption: ‘Got to spend the day with my favorite girl in the whole world. <3 Just kidding, mom!’ Pens and pencils clattered to the floor as Seb pitched their container at the wall across the room. He gripped the arm rests on his chair and rolled away from the computer. “What the fuck?!”

Dingy floorboards creaked as Seb huffily paced around the room, biting away at the skin around his fingernails. The ones the farmer painted. ‘That post was days old and no one told me anything! He fucking knows I’m not on social media and he took advantage of that so he wouldn’t have to tell me to my face! He could say he thought everyone knew!’ Sam, that piece of shit, knew how he felt about her. Even when she was still the new girl in town, Seb liked her way before Sam did. He knew that. No wonder Sam had been so “busy” the past few days. Dark eyes focused on the map still sprawled out on the table from last week’s D&D session. It was supposed to be a one shot of an experimental system Seb found on Reddit, but Sam kept cracking jokes and it took longer to get through than expected. ‘I should have known then, every time Sam said something, he’d look to her for approval. And she ate it up!’ Come to think of it, more jokes had been at Seb’s expense than usual. He snatched the map and crumpled it up, colorful dice and intricately painted miniatures flying off and scattering on the floor. The map landed in a ball near an overflowing trash bin. Heart pounding through his ears, he returned to the computer. “Fuck this.”

As he sat, Seb tugged at the button on his dark jeans, undoing and and lowering his fly. He hated Sam, he fucking hated him, but he couldn’t change how good the farmer looked in her tight little swimsuit. Seb drank her up with his eyes, memorizing how nylon spandex indented her smooth skin. How sweat and saltwater intermingled and rolled down her curves. It was like he could taste her, and when he palmed his growing hard-on through the denim of his pants, he could feel her too. Running thumbs around the hem of his pants and boxer briefs, he hurriedly pulled them down mid-thigh, freeing his erection. He was warm, but it felt nice in the cool air. Under the desk was a bottle of lotion, and Seb reached down to pump some into his palm. This is it. This is what Sam fucking deserves.

One hand blocked the face of a traitor on his monitor while the other began massaging lotion onto his stiff cock. ‘Sam’s such a pussy, she’s got to pity him, going for a guy like that. But he doesn’t get the connection we have. He’ll see.’ He could treat her so much better. He knew he’d treat her so much better. Seb’s fist pumped at increasing speeds as he imagined the things he’d do to her.

If she chose him, he’d bring her out to the beach late at night. Elliot and Willy would be asleep at home and they’d have the shore to themselves, letting them talk and relax to the sound of waves crashing uninterrupted. She’d kiss him under the moonlight, and he’d snake a hand under the stretchy fabric of her bathing suit to fondle her breast, kneading her hard nipple under his thumb and making her hum in satisfaction. Her moans would be the invitation he needed to take things further, straddling her and humping her wet cunt through her swimsuit. She removes her arms and pulls the fabric down past her tits, and Sebastian is mezmerised by the way they bounce beneath him. He lunges forward, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, before pulling it upward and releasing it with a satisfying pop. Her moans reverberate into the night but are drowned out by the ambient sound of the ocean. But Seb wanted more; he wanted everyone to hear what he was doing to her. Shimmying his swim trunks down to his knees, his eyes bore into hers, begging for permission to enter. “Fuck me.” And so he does, yanking her swim bottoms to the side and plowing her into the sand. His hands and knees sink into the ground beneath them, but he still manages to pull her hips towards his and ram into her with unexpected force, grunting with each rut.

Sand sticks to her sweat-slicked skin as she pleads to him. “Shit, Sebastian…!” She reaches to lick a stripe up his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin just under his jaw and making him shiver. He pulls back, keeping his eyes on hers as he licks his thumb and grazes her clit. She squirms under him, rolling her hips to gain more friction.

“What, you like that?” He smirks, but her frustrated groans as a result of his teasing convince him to relent. He traces swift circles around her clit and is rewarded with a tightening around his cock.

“Yes…yes!” Seb lulls his head forward, overwhelmed by the pleasure, and watches as her pussy contorts around his shaft as he penetrates her. Fuck, she’s so hot.

He wanted her so fucking bad, it wasn’t fair. The glow of the computer screen illuminated his flushed, sweaty face in the dark room. She was so tempting, he found himself rutting desperately into his fist, increasing the strength of his grip as though it was her squeezing around him. Glazed eyes darted from the image of her breasts, to her midriff, to her ass and back up again; he wanted to visualize them all at once. He wanted all of her. She was his.

Seb brought the free hand against the screen up to his slack mouth, stifling a moan. Seeing the full image again, of Sam kissing his goddess, made him grunt in frustration, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Still, the tension building in his core was at its climax, and he came hot white into his palm and onto the floor beneath his desk. Head rolling back, a cloud of euphoria washed over him, followed by a wave of clarity and regret. Tears rolled down his warm cheeks as he drooped his head into his hand, liked the post, and closed the tab.

[mamaestapa]

For the blurb night, can you do smth related to the photos that came out today plz!!!

Media Day|| Joe Burrow x reader

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•summary: you’re out for brunch with your friends when the bengals drop the media day photos…

•warnings: allusions to sex, joes media day picture turns you on a lot

You were out enjoying a nice brunch at a cute little cafe in Cincinnati with Morgan and Holly when you got the notification on your phone: Cincinnati Bengals just made a new post

Today was the Bengals media day, meaning brand new season pictures would be taken and posted to social media today for the fans (and of course, fangirls) to enjoy. You were hoping this new post was a picture of your boyfriend, and it must have been your lucky day because the new post was indeed, a picture of Joe. You felt your cheeks heat up and your heart skip a beat as you looked at the picture the Bengals social media team had posted.

Joe was in his black game day jersey, which was your personal favorite of all of the uniforms the Bengals wore. Something about that black jersey just makes Joe look even hotter—which you didn’t think was possible. As if the uniform wasn’t hot enough, Joe was also wearing that headband he got since he started growing out his hair. The headband holding back his luscious dark blonde waves paired with the black game day attire had you going absolutely feral. He looked like a greek god. You didn’t think anybody was perfect, until you met Joe Burrow. In your eyes(and the girls of tumblr), Joe was absolutely perfect.

You liked the photo and turned your phone off, needing to compose yourself. As you were drooling over the picture the Bengals posted of Joe, Holly and Morgan were engaged in deep conversation. You tried to put your attention on them and listen to what your friends were talking about, but all you could think about was Joe and that photo…

That blonde hair and headband combo, all you wanted to do was run your finger through those waves…

Those muscular arms that Joe worked so hard to grow during the off-season, all you wanted to do was run your fingers over every bulging muscle and prominent vein…

Those plump, pink lips you loved so much, all you wanted to do was kiss them…

And those soft, veiny hands, all you wanted was for his skilled fingers to touch your most intimate places…

You let out a soft sigh, deciding you needed to speak with Joe. He needed to know the effect he had on you from just one single picture. You grabbed your purse and excused yourself from the table, heading to the bathroom to speak to your boyfriend. You locked the door and set your purse down the counter, pulling your phone out once again to call Joe. You pulled up his contact and pressed the call button, bringing your phone up to your ear. You leaned against the sink and bit your lip in anticipation. After the third ring, Joe picked up.

“Hey baby.” he greeted on the other end. “Hey Joey,” you said, “what are you doing right now?” You heard a door slam in the background and the sound of a car starting, “I’m on my way home, just got finished with pictures.”

You bit your lip as your mind wandered to the picture of Joe. So many nasty thoughts were filling your head at the moment as you spoke with Joe.

“Y/n?” Joe asked, “are you even listening to me?” You shook your head and cleared your throat, “Y-yeah. You were saying something about pictures.” Joe just chuckled, “You didn’t hear a thing I said.”

Joe was right. You didn’t hear him because you were too focused on other things that had to do with him…

“Did you see the pictures?” He questioned as he pulled out of the stadium. You hummed, “Mhm, I saw them.” You could hear the smirk in Joe’s voice as he said, “You like ‘em?” “Joe,” you began, “I loved them. I really mean it when I say you are the most perfect man on this planet.” Joe chuckled, “Yeah right.”

You shook your head as a sultry smile made its way onto your face, “No I’m serious. You looked so hot in that picture. All I could think about was how your hands would look touching me instead…” You heard Joe’s breath hitch on the other end, a smirk making its way onto your face. “You still at brunch?” he asked. You nodded, “In the bathroom of the cafe as we speak, talking to you and practically dripping at the thought of how you looked in that picture.”

Joe groaned as he stopped at a traffic light, “Meet me at home in ten.” You smiled triumphantly, “Will do. Keep the headband on for me.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he responded, “Yes ma’am.”

The two of you exchanged a couple more words before you hung up. You walked out of the bathroom and back to the table, letting the girls know that you were leaving. You told them that Joe had gotten sick and he needed you to bring him some gatorade. They were both very understanding, telling you to go home and take care of Joe. The three of you could always go out to brunch together another time. You thanked Morgan and Holly and left the cafe in a hurry, ready to get home to Joe.

You were definitely getting lucky today, multiple times at that, all because of some silly social media post. But you (and Joe) weren’t complaining at all…

hi loves!

so this is my first joe blurb, i hope you all like it! it’s a lot shorter than what i usually write, so it may be a little MEH

i’ll be posting one or two more blurbs tonight for all of you, so stay tuned! i’ve gotten a lot of blurb ideas today, so i won’t be doing all of them tonight. i’ll split them up and do some tonight and the rest another night ;)

i would love to do a night every week just dedicated to writing some short imagines if you’re all interested in that. i was thinking every friday, saturday, or sunday night. let me know which night works best for you if a blurb night is something you’re interested in!🤍

[honeybeedrabble]

Working Weekends: CEO!Kakashi x AFABreader

AN: a while ago someone requested a CEO!Kakashi fic but my dumbass read it as a question about the mafia boss!Kakashi and posted about that instead. anyways, to whoever you are this one’s for you lol

CW: CEO!Kakashi x AFAB secretary!reader, dubcon / quid pro quo / coercion, unprotected piv (don’t be stupid), accidental creampie (don’t be stupid), biting, hickeys, spit play (if you squint), cum eating, spanking, sex tape filming / photos, praise, breast play, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, lmk if i missed anything !!

18+ MDNI !!!

You never liked working weekends, so much so that yesterday you tried leaving early just so you could avoid running into your boss and having him pressure you into working on your hard earned saturday off. This obviously couldn’t be the case, that would be too easy. Some sick part of you knew this would happen one way or another, and now you’re bent over his desk taking it like a champ.

“Shit baby, you can really take it balls deep…” Kakashi grunted, his hands were bunching your pencil skirt above your ass, your panties at your ankles. You shuddered as his thick cock plunged deeper into you, his heavy balls resting against your ass each time he bottomed out inside of you.

Your face was smooshed against the desk, papers scattered everywhere from all the work he had put in prior to your arrival. One if his hands let go of your skirt and moved down to between your legs, his middle finger teased your clit and you let out a loud gasp, clutching the desk for dear life as your legs threatened to give out.

“Poor girl… gonna cum already?” he teased, withdrawing his cock before slamming it in until he was rutting away inside your desperate cunt. You yelped, Kakashi grabbed your hair and pulled it back, your back now arched and your face away from the papers. You set your arms on the table to hold you up, sweat beading down your temples. With both hands now, Kakashi unbuttoned your white blouse, licking his lips when your tits came spilling out.

“No bra this time? What a good little secretary,” He cooed, a massive hand of his groping a soft breast eliciting a whine from you. You couldn’t help the way your hips tilted into his, whimpering for the cock of the man who treated you like his own personal wage slave. Kakashi chuckled smugly, grinding his girthy member into your tight walls to make you suffer even more.

“I’m tired of standing,” Kakashi smacked your ass then pulled out. You whined at the sudden loss of his cock stretching you out, but watched as he walked over to the other side of the desk, his hard cock peeking out of his black dress pants and against his expensive, white buttoned shirt.

He sat down on his black leather chair, sinking into it deeply. He began to remove his suit jacket and tossed it on the desk infront of him. He opened a drawer in his desk and began to rummage through it, all while you were eyeing his dick, mouth watering at the sight of his dribbling precum. His eyes darted up at you,

“like what you see?” he asked knowingly.

You felt your face heat up in shame, nodding softly.

“I know you do,” he laughed, a hand stroking up and down his glistening shaft. His other hand was still searching in his drawer and he smiled when he discovered what he was looking for. He pulled out a small digital camera and turned it on.

Kakashi looked up at you and pointed the lense at you. Quickly, you covered yourself and turned away from the camera. Kakashi huffed angrily, you turned your face toward him to be met with his furrowed brows and stern frown.

“I thought you wanted that big holiday bonus?” He asked with an angry tone. The color from your face drained, feeling completely hopeless.

“I-I do, sir. But I… I cant.” You stammered. Kakashi tisked, slowly shaking his head.

“Well I guess you don’t need the money that badly.”

“No! I mean I do, I just…”

“No no no, if you really can’t do it, then by all means walk away from me and all that money you’d be missing out on.” You watched as that evil man’s lips formed into a smirk, the camera was placed ontop of his desk and his fingers were interlaced, palms resting on his abdomen.

You took a deep breath then let it go, as you walked over to his side of the desk and handed him the silver camera. He smiled wide, dimples adorning his cheeks as he took it from you.

“My obedient little secretary, I knew you’d come around.” You knelt down and got underneath his desk, your head between his knees. “Don’t worry, precious. These will be for me and me alone,” he cooed, his hand holding your chin and his thumb caressed your cheek tenderly. “Or for the whole office to see if you ever plan on snitching to HR about all this.” He grinned.

Terrified, you shook your head no and he laughed. “Atta girl, now get to sucking.” His legs spread and his cock stood up straight, you wrapped your hand around the base and held his leaking tip against your flattened tongue.

“Hold that pose for a second…” Kakashi hummed, a flash of light from the camera flickered and you softly squinted. Kakashi examined the picture and showed it to you. You blushed as you saw the lewd photo, and blushed even more when you saw the hungry twinkle in your eyes.

“Now this one is perfect but i’m wondering if I should keep flash on or off…” he trailed off. You felt so embarrassed, hearing him talk so casually about the riské photos.

To shut him up you wrapped your lips around his cock, letting him slide down your throat while fighting back the urge to gag. Your tongue caressed the underside of his tip when you bobbed back up, your throat now properly slickened by the profuse amount of precum he was secreting.

“Ohhh,” Kakashi moaned, fumbling with the camera to take a quick picture of you. When he did you felt him twitch in your mouth as he looked at the new photo. “Dear god, look at you. You look real good baby…” he trailed off as you bobbed up and down his length from under his desk.

You felt your arousal pool between your thighs, cunt cold against the slick that was gathered by your skirt. You wanted to touch yourself, but you didn’t want to let him know this was turning you on so much, the embarrassment would’ve been too much to handle. While lost in thought, you played with his balls, massaging their heavy weight as he snapped pictures whenever there was a good angle.

“Fuck being my secretary, maybe I should make you my model, huh?” He said, thrusting up into your throat. You gagged softly and at that same moment he snapped another shot. “I mean… shit, look at yourself.” He flipped the camera over and you watched in horror how desperate you looked to stuff him down your throat after gagging on it so suddenly.

“We’re getting some good shots over here, I can email them to you if you want.”

“Please no…” You whimpered, pulling off of his length. He laughed, caressing your bottom lip that was all pink and swollen from sucking his cock.

“Fair enough. Why don’t we cut to the good part already and have you ride this dick, hmm?” His head tilted as he searched your teary eyes.

“O-okay…” You crawled out from under the desk and shakily got you your feet. Kakashi sat up, his hands at the sides of your legs and bunching your skirt up to your ass again. You stepped out of your panties and wrapped your leg around him to sit on his lap. You looked down at his cock, his hand wrapped around it to steady it for you.

*snap* another picture.

“Ohhhh hell yeah, that’s a good one,” he hummed in delight, looking back at you with his shit eating grin. “Get to work.” he instructed. You raised your hips and both of you let out soft moans when the tip of his cock met the leaky mess that was gushing out your pussy.

Kakashi grabbed his cock and dipped his tip inside of you, gathering as much of your arousal as he could before running the sticky wetness along your sensitive folds. Your mouth fell open and you moaned his name, ignoring him taking another photo of you coming undone in his lap.

“Good girl,” he purred, running the tip up and down your folds, watching the way you twitched when he rubbed against your clit just right.

He finally lined himself up with your hole, looking at you in a way to signal it was time for you to lower yourself down on him. As you took the head of his cock in, you threw your head back, clenching around his fat tip. He moaned in retaliation, latching onto your exposed neck with his sharp teeth and hot tongue. You sunk down further, thighs tightening around his hips. His large hands guided your hips down on him, grabbing the soft plush of your ass for leverage.

“No different from the last time, baby. Get to it,” he hummed in your neck, flipping the camera around and snapping a selfie of him attacking your throat.

You sighed, going limp in his lap, your clit finally reaching his pubic bone and softly grinding against it, electricity shooting through your veins at the connection. He lightly laughed, angling the camera between the two of you and snapping a picture where the two of your sexes met.

“Maybe I should record a little video, a few second of you just riding me, huh?” He asked, not necessarily looking for permission as he switched it to its recording feature.

Nervously, you rested your hand on the camera and pushed it against his chest with a frown on your face, shaking your head ‘no.’ He gave you the same grimace from before.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you weren’t in need of the extra money. In fact, why don’t we call it a day while we’re ahead?” he raised his voice, attempting to get up.

“N-no wait!” you pushed his chest down with your hand, attempting to keep him seated.

“Are you gonna let me do what I need to do?” he asked, brow raised. You bit your lip, nodding slightly. He smiled, then grabbed both sides of your face in his hands, placing a grateful kiss on your lips. You kissed back for some reason, craving the sudden intimacy.

“Gooood girl…” he praised, placing more kisses on your lips, humming each time you kissed back. “Now fucking ride already.”

You began to grind your hips in his lap, soft whimpers escaping your soft lips, Kakashi hummed pleasently, letting his own moans fill the room as he started recording the scene in front of him. He tilted the camera down to where you two met, outlining the dick imprint in your stomach with his slender fingers.

“You feel it in there?” he whispered in a low, sultry voice.

“Y-yeah…” you muttered, your arousal starting to stain a damp patch on the crotch of his pants.

“I can tell, you’re really choking my cock right now.” you sighed, hearing his vulgar language. Kakashi focused the camera, almost drooling at the video recording you leaking all over him.

You placed your hands on each of his shoulders steadying yourself in his lap before bobbing up and down on his shaft with all the intensity you could muster. Each time you slammed down into his hips he had brushed against that sweet spot, right in the back that was so deep you weren’t sure any other man could reach it. You moaned loud, uncaring if anyone outside were to walk by his office and hear you mewling for his permission to cum on his lap.

While riding, Kakashi was kneading your ass, stopping occasionally to stop the recording and take a few pictures or spank you suddenly, leaving red handprints behind.

“Ngh- god I love it when you find your groove,” he sighed, your wet pussy continuing to drip down his cock and into his expensive pants. He could care less about the pants when it was you who was staining them, your thighs at his hips trembling as your orgasm approached.

“Sloppy pussy, neat desk. What more could I ask for in a secretary?” he whispered in your ear, hands running up the small of your back while he buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent and feeling your feverish skin.

“S-Sir…”

“I told you the first time, call me Kakashi,” he grunted, feeling his own orgasm approaching.

“Kakashi… m’ gonna… ngh- no…” you whimpered, terrified to admit defeat yet again as the luxury seat underneath you two creaked and squeaked as you rode him, stroking him from the inside with your overstuffed cunt.

“Oh yes…” he smirked, teasing you while he took in the sweet sight of you coming undone for him yet again, messy for his cock as opposed to the pristine way you carried yourself throughout the office. “Yes you are hmm?”

“Hngh- I shouldn’t,” your drooled down your chin, all the way to your exposed collarbones. Kakashi dragged his hot tongue along your spit and up to your jaw, sucking a soft hickey that’d prove impossible to hide.

“I beg to differ. I think you… we should.” His breaths were labored, tired regardless to the fact he put little to no work into this encounter. “I know I will, so just do us both a favor and let that pretty pussy cum all over my cock, mkay?” he asked rhetorically. “We both know she belongs to me.”

Maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was the way his dick slid in just right, the slight curve pressing against the most heavenly spot in your abused hole that made you shake in his lap, juicing all over him as if you were a fresh orange being squeezed. You covered your mouth with your palm, biting into the flesh softly to stifle your moans. It was futile when Kakashi roughly grabbed both your wrists in his large hand, staring intently as your mouth fell open and you cried his name as if it were a prayer.

“Fuck, just like that….” He muttered, sweat dripping down his forehead. He held your hips up slightly with the other hand, thrusting into your cunt before withdrawing an inch only to plummet back inside without any precision or kindness in his strokes.

“Haaaah- good girl…” he grunted, filling you up with hot cum before pulling out and jerking himself off, cumming on your clit as he watched his seed slowly drip out of your hole.

“Ahhh, ahhh…” Kakashi threw his head back, letting go of your wrists to pick up his camera again and take a few pictures of the crime scene, some including photos of your fucked out face.

When he slowly came too he noticed how you were still moaning, as if the ghost of his cock was still gently prying into you and eliciting these whimpers. He switched his camera to the video recording feature and recorded him scooping up his cum with his middle and ring finger, spreading the two fingers and watching as the hot spend stretched as he spread them.

“You gotta clean up your mess, hmm?” He held the two fingers close together and plunged them deep down your throat, the camera rolling on your aroused face as you sucked the didgets clean, grinding on his lap while you did so.

“Such a slutty thing…” he muttered softly, watching as your eyes blew wide with lust at the taste of his liquid arousal on your tongue. You knew if he showed you this later you’d be fucked, there was no way you couldn’t call your expression anything but horny in this very moment.

“As soon as you’re done get back to work,” Kakashi hummed, watching as you got off his lap and under his desk again to lap up his cum. “I’d say you’ve earned your bonus.”

[admirationandromantics]

On the Line

This was a request! Maybe a bit creepy for some, but then you don't have to read it. Basically, you don't hang up the phone after speaking with Chris, leading to him finding out you have a thing for him. Again, my blog is 18+, as is ALL my posts.

Should I be reading for my exam? Yes. Am I doing it? No, I'm writing this for you guys. Please enjoy! <3

Your hand wanders down your stomach, sliding down to your clothed heat. Everything is perfect, you just took a hot shower after being out with Chris the entire day. He needed a new game, and he picked you up in his shiny black car, driving to the city and roaming the stores for the exact one he wanted. 

It was a hot day, and he was wearing a tight white shirt. His big strong arms bulked under the sun, contrasting the shadows around his muscles. He looked stunning, hot, sexy. You had to stop your eyes from wandering several times. 

Your hand moves down to your already soaked underwear, teasing through the fabric. If he was here, he would pin you down, using his teeth to drag your underwear off. You could get off on the thought of him alone. His strong arms come to mind again. The way they fold around objects, the way his thumb moves painfully slowly when feeling something. 

He could easily pick you up, you knew that after being thrown over his shoulder several times before. His big hands would smack your ass, hard. He would grope both your tits at the same time, leaving kisses all over you and sucking you off. 

You move away the clothed barrier, feeling yourself dripping down your fingers. Christ, if he only knew what his body did to you. You’ve only thought about his arms, making a mess on the newly changed sheets. 

The compression shirts he wore when working out. Clinging to his abs perfectly. How tall he was, how big he was. He could drown you, squash you, tear you apart. Your other hand moves to your boob, feeling the hardened nipple under your shirt. 

“Fuck, yes Chris. Please fuck me!” you whisper, imagining his presence on top of you. A loud ring from the phone interrupts your thoughts. You turn over, hand on your clit still moving in soft circles. The name shines in big letters on the screen: Christopher. 

“Fucking hell” you mutter to yourself. It’s like he knows exactly what you're doing. You swipe the answer-butting, putting him on speaker. 

“Hey Chrissy” you greet, face getting hotter. 

“Hey darling” he says back in a teasing tone. You would never admit it to anyone, but you loved the nickname. Your fingers glide down to your soaking folds, moving up and down. 

“So I was thinking about today, and I think you need a new game too. This is awesome!” he exclaims happily. God, he was sweet, caring, he wanted to meet you again. But you just wanted him. 

“We can go out again tomorrow, but if you want I can come pick you up again tonight? You could come over, play some episodes with me and I’ll drive you back home later?” he continues. 

Your breathing gets quicker, words getting harder to form by the second. 

“U-um yeah, that sounds great Chris” you mutter, breathing heavily and voice erotic. 

“Okay, great, I’m going to take a shower first-” he continues, but you only picture it. Him, in the shower, naked. His perfect body towering over you, slamming into the wall, warm water running over both of you as he captures your lips. 

“Are you okay?” he suddenly asks, voice lowering significantly. Oh, if he only could hear himself. That serious voice against your ear, small bites left on your neck. 

“Mhmm…” you manage to answer. “We’ll do that Chris, that’s good”

“Super, I’ll be over in a bit then” he ends, and you hang up and throw the phone aside. 

What you didn’t know though, was that you missed the button, and a certain someone forgot to tell you something. 

“Hey, could you-” he stops as he hears your whimpers. You don’t notice, thoughts filled with him getting you off. 

“Yes, Chris please, keep doing that!” you plead, pumping your fingers harder while the other hand rubs your clit. 

Chris is hearing everything. Your sloppy and horny self getting off by thinking of him. HIM! He can’t believe it. Just a couple of hours ago, he saw you, and now you were doing this? Imagining you laid draped on the bed, finger-fucking yourself, screaming his name in ecstacy, lustful eyes as you pictured him doing all these things to you. This got him off, and he could feel himself grow by your actions. After all, he already had thoughts about you too. Finally he heard his name from your moaning mouth, pleading and whining for him. 

His hand wanders under his underwear, grabbing hold of himself, starting to pump from the way you say his name. 

“God, yes, yes!” you shout, nearing the edge. He pumps faster, pulse quickening and cheeks flushing. He thinks about you underneath him, a whimpering mess of a woman as he slams into you, getting those beautiful sounds he’d been praying to hear. God, you were good for him, you were gonna be such a good girl, doing exactly as he said. He’d capture your lips in a kiss, swallowing your moans as he bites your lower lip. 

You cry as you get over the edge, passion and pleasure mixing as you relax, breathing heavily while riding it out. Chris feels himself coming from your screams, spilling all over his stomach and pants. 

You take a few deep breaths, laying your head back on the pillow. “Shit, shower” you whisper. You had to get ready. That shower was for nothing if you had to take a new one right after. Chris heard you, being quick to hang up the phone before you saw he was still on the line. This was not the way he’d let you know he also had a thing for you. After all, you were supposed to have all of tonight…

[skyward-floored]

Time discovers the plan

(Incredibles au)

The other movie scene I mentioned I’d post today :) This comes right before the first ever fic I wrote for this au, and it was very fun to write. Though I have the urge to rewrite that one now, I could do it so much better now that it’s been two years... eh, it is what it is. Please enjoy Time having a bad time.

ao3 link (coming soon)

————————————————————

Time’s mind whirled as he snuck his way into Dark’s base, slipping past some guards while knocking others out. Most didn’t put up too much of a fight, which left him with plenty of time to think as he crept around.

This was all so much worse then he ever could have imagined.

He’d nearly been killed just like poor Blazing Fist, all because of Dark. Time had thought this was just a government operation, but instead it... he didn’t even fully know what was going on. He was still wrapping his head around Dark being the obsessive kid who’d nearly gotten them both killed all those years ago because he didn’t know when to stop.

But right now, Time needed to figure out Dark’s plan. He had an advantage right now— Dark thought he was dead, and Blazing Fist had left a message burnt onto the wall, a word that must be important. Time kept that word in the forefront of his mind as he finally reached the room with the lava fall, determination speeding his steps.

He would figure out Dark’s plan. And he would stop it.

Time looked around for something to protect him from the lava flow, and settled on a large statue set in the corner. He drew on his powers and hefted it above him, then squared up with the falls, narrowing his eyes. He would have to be fast. The statue was solid rock, but even that wouldn’t last forever under a continuous assault of lava.

Time breathed in, then out.

Okay.

Here we go.

Time tensed in preparation to sprint, but right as he moved, a loud booming sound signaled the wall about to open.

Time lurched to a halt, the abrupt stop to his movement nearly making him drop the statue. He scrambled to regain his balance as it teetered on his shoulders, then stumbled backwards in order to get out of sight of the people emerging from the secret hall.

He made it to the corner just in time, and set the statue down as quietly as possible. It still made a loud noise, but the lava mostly covered it, enough that he wasn’t found out. Time remained quiet as a mouse as he heard Dark say something to Sheik, their footsteps tapping right past his hiding spot. Nothing they said was of particular note, and he watched them carefully as they hurried away.

Then they were gone, and Time bolted, running for the lava flow as it began to close in again.

He spared a thought towards Wild as he sprinted, the walls quickly closing in on him. The heat was nearly unbearable, but Time kept running, keeping his eyes fixed on the distant opening he could see.

The lava was so bright and hot it hurt his eyes, his supersuit the only thing keeping him from bursting into flames. Time’s skin burned as he ran for the exit, and he held back a shout as he threw himself forward, the walls slamming shut mere inches from his feet.

Time rolled as he landed, and slowly stood as he caught his breath from his sprint. The room he’d landed in was dark, but not impossible to see in due to the huge, dimly-lit screen at the end of a thin walkway.

A steep drop waited on either side of him, but Time crept forward without fear, his steps light and quick. He reached the screen in moments, and looked up at it, pondering. It seemed to be a normal keyboard below, and Time lightly pressed a button.

The screen brightened at the touch, displaying several lines, and one simple question glared at him.

PASSWORD?

Time’s heart sank. He had a feeling he would probably be able to guess the code given all the time in the world, but he knew he didn’t have long. The guards he’d knocked out wouldn’t stay that way forever, and Dark would likely return before long. There might be cameras on him right now.

Time tapped his gloved hands on the side of the console, mind sorting through dozens of options as precious seconds ticked by.

Then he remembered the word Blazing Fist had left for him.

Nocte.

Time carefully typed it in, and the computer admitted him with a soft chime, putting him on a menu with a couple of options. Time’s heart pounded as he looked at them all, and he zeroed in on the one in the middle labeled Supers.

He clicked on it with a mounting level of dread, and names began appearing, superhero names, along with information and pictures of them and the Guardian prototypes they’d fought.

And been killed by.

Time’s throat tightened as names breezed by, many he recognized from years of hero work. Some had put up a fight, lasting through multiple iterations of Guardians, but in the end, all of them had red words dashed across their photos, labeling them as dead from Dark’s project.

They just kept coming, more and more names flashing across the screen, some familiar, some not. But with every note that indicated the hero had died because of Dark’s insane project, the cavern in Time’s chest grew, and he bowed his head in grief.

So many dead...

His own name flashed by, the same red TERMINATED across his face, and a thought suddenly occurred to him. Time quickly typed in Malon’s hero name, anxiety rising, but relief swept over him at the near complete lack of information that showed up. Dark had no idea who she was, or where she was.

She’s safe.

He leaned back and let out a shaky sigh of relief, but then another thought surfaced in his mind, one almost too terrifying to check on.

But he had to know.

Time swallowed, then quickly typed in the name Crimson Loftwing. Dread crept over him like a spider, his hands shaking as the computer loaded, and Time forced himself to still them as he waited. Maybe it’s unconnected, maybe he’s—

The screen blinked, then a neat list appeared, detailing a concerning amount of information on Sky. A picture of him as Crimson Loftwing appeared moments later, the hero smiling brightly as he stood next to a statue of the legendary bird he took his hero name from.

The word TERMINATED appeared over him in bright red letters.

Time let out a broken-sounding breath, and ran a hand through his bangs.

Oh Sky...

Time had purposely buried whatever hope he’d had left that Sky was alive somewhere, the pain of holding on to it just too much to bear. But apparently there’d still been some left, even after more than a year of him missing.

And now it was gone.

Time closed his eyes and ignored how it felt like he’d been punched in the gut, pushing the new grief that was mixing with the old to the side. The confirmed loss of someone he considered as both a brother and son would have to wait until he’d stopped what was going on.

Sky I’m so sorry.

Time took a deep breath, and typed in Warriors’ hero name then, freezing at the sheer amount of information that came up. They knew his name, his real name, his powers, where he lived, who he was married to and even who Artemis was...

He’d been going for them next.

Time swallowed thickly, and realized that he was getting distracted. He pushed past his fear and grief and horribly distracting feelings, and went back to the main menu, clicking on the one labeled Project Nocte.

He scanned the notes inside, clicking past schematics and blueprints. A button caught his attention, and Time pressed it, watching worriedly as a slideshow began to play. It showed the Guardian robot fitting neatly into a rocket Dark had designed, then flying across the ocean and landing right in Hyrule’s capital. It began to wreak havoc on the unassuming city in the image, and then a countdown appeared, showing less than a day until the rocket was scheduled to launch.

Time breathed in sharply, eyes fixed on the number.

He had to stop that rocket.

No matter what.

He stepped away from the computer, mind whirling with information and urgency, then bolted back the way he came.

He’d taken all of three steps before the symbol on the front of his suit lit up, and let out a rapid stream of beeps.

Time looked at it in confused shock, and an alarm blared, harsh lights blinding him as they turned on. The blaring tone ground into his ears, and Time didn’t even have a moment to figure out what exactly had just happened.

The whizz of something being shot rang out over the alarm, and Time jerked his head up to see small cannons shooting black orbs towards him, ones that stuck to the ground and made an odd fizzing sound.

One hit his hand, and when Time tried to shake it off, it only grew, in both size and weight.

Time to go.

Time ran, dodging the projectiles as much as he could. The whole wall was lined with cannons though, shooting almost endless streams of the black blobs. Several hit Time’s arms and legs, one even hitting his shoulder right next to his face, but he kept going, pushing himself as hard as he could.

Even when he fell to his knees, weighed down by the growing blobs that just kept coming, he attempted to crawl forward, refusing to quit.

He gasped as one began to cover his face, dragging himself forward as he slowed even further. He didn’t know what would happen when it covered his mouth, but he knew he was about to find out. His mind began to grow fuzzy as he crawled, and he had the panicked realization that he was somehow being drugged by the material spreading over him.

No! Not like this! he thought, gasping as he was dragged to the ground, the weight finally too much. Dark can’t win, he can’t, I have to stop this, for Blazing Fist, for Sky—

His body was almost entirely covered now, and Time let out one last desperate and frustrated cry before his face was covered, catching sight of a blurry figure approaching him.

Then he knew nothing.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 9

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.9

“Why don’t criminals trust stairs?”

“Stanley, I am trying to work.”

“Because they’re always up to something.”

*Ford covering his mouth with his hand because he’s trying really hard not to laugh*

“Why don’t criminals like elevators? Because they hate getting taken down.”

*Ford faceplanting on his desk and slamming his fist on it because he’s trying not to laugh*

“What do you call a criminal snob going downstairs? A condescending con descending.”

“E-enough! I’m going to put you on mute if you don’t stop.”

“Ah, come on man. It’s not like I got much else to do here. I can’t even write in that notebook you guys gave me anymore cause I got nothing to write with.”

“Maybe you would still have writing utensils if we didn't run out because you chewed up all of the other ones we gave you.”

“I can’t help it, PhD. I’m on day seven of nicotine withdrawal and it’s still kicking my ass. I get that this whole lab is a ‘no smoking’ zone, but I saw stretch using dip, and you didn’t say anything; just looked at him in a passive aggressive, judgemental way.”

“Tobacco is a nasty habit, and you are better off losing that vice while you’re still in a controlled environment. Our father never kicked it on his own, so this is really for your own-.”

“Yeah, yeah Doc. For my own good. I’ve heard it a million times. Do you like, keep score of how many times you say that, is someone keeping track of it? Or is that your only excuse for the insane crap you’re always pulling.”

“If it will placate you and keep you quiet, I’ll wheel over a television.”

“You have one of those down here?”

“I primarily use it as a device that decrypts thoughts, but its original function is still intact. Let me bring it over.”

“How uncharacteristically considerate of you.”

“You’re watching The Black and White Period Piece Old Lady Boring Movie Channel.”

“Wait a second, where's the remote?”

“There isn’t one.”

“Stay tuned for the six episode marathon of The Six Wives of Henry VIII, starring Keith Michell as Henry VIII, Annette Crosbie as Catherine of Aragon, Dorothy Tutin as Anne Boleyn-”

“Change the channel. PhD, I swear to God.”

“Anne Stallybrass as Jane Seymour, Elvi Hale as Anne of Cleves, Angela Pleasance as Catherine Howard, and Rosalie Crutchley as Catherine Parr.”

“No- NO!”

*Ford presses the mute button on the cell*

(...)

160 minutes later…

“Stanford, I brought those scrap m- what in Sam Hell?”

“I appreciate it, Fiddleford.”

“Is there a particular reason Stan is staring unblinking at that TV screen?”

“I put on a soap opera because I thought he would hate it. But he… really got into it.”

“Is that the same reason why his desk chair is smashed in the corner?”

“Yes, there was a plot twist he did not find agreeable. I tried to change the channel after one episode, but he gave me such a look that I truly believe if I did, he would find a way to break the forcefield just to strangle me.”

“That’s… Not what I expected from someone like him.”

“I’ve never seen him get this way. Not even during a baseball game or boxing match where he made the wrong bet.”

“It can’t rightly be that interesting.” 

*Fiddleford pulls up a chair near the cell to watch the TV*

“You both do that. I still have important research to document.”

(...)

240 minutes later…

*all three of them are staring at the TV and don’t start blinking until the credits roll*

“I’ll tell you what, fellers, I can’t believe Gardiner got away with everything.”

“I know, right? Whatever Jesus approves of, I’m sure it’s not that.”

"We're Jewish, Stanley."

"Really? Well that explains why I distinctly remember the Aryan Brotherhood nearly beating me to death in prison."

"They what?!"

"Calm down PhD, I said nearly."

(...)

"Stanley, it has almost been ten days, it’s time to remove your stitches."

"Give me some nail clippers, I'll do it myself."

"Properly. Come on, don't be such a wuss about it."

“Can’t F do it instead?”

“No, he is in town on a supply run. Also, the only difference between you and I and under that shirt is the amount of rolls.”

“Ouch, low blow PhD. It’s not like you’re a runway model either. Fine, but any more cracks on my weight, and I’m going to remind you I’m a threat inside and outside of bars.”

"What are these, circles-? Wait, burns? ...Who did this to you?"

"... Don't worry about it."

"I am going to worry about it! Stanley, who did this?"

"It doesn't matter..."

"It does! Please, I'm your brother just-"

"Don't make me think about it, I don’t remember a lot but- I don't like remembering that."

"Oh Stanley." *hugs him even though it isn't returned* "I'm so sorry. Whatever happened, you didn't deserve that."

"You'd be surprised."

To be continued...

[sturnwritess]

Things always end.

[ my first angst 🤨 ] M.S

summary: reader goes to a party and shortly leaves after seeing matt all up on another girl.

warnings: Hard angst, toxic matt, slight mention of alcohol,mentions of drugs, not a happy ending,swearing and cheating.

LEMME KNOW IF U WANT A PT 2.

WC:

pink text: you, purple text: nick, orange text chris

(matt doesnt text in the group chat. since he's tuff)

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

The flashing lights and blasting music and the smell of weed flowing through the house made me nauseous.

Chris and Nick texted me to come to the party in the first place.

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

hey you coming to the party?

i might be, whos all gonna be there?

just a bunch of random influencers and also matt, me and chris are gonna be there too.

ok i will be there, cant wait to see you guys 😚

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

You put on your slim black dress, knowing its matt's favorite dress. You put on your black heels and your red purse. You ordered a uber, and you scrolled through your phone and saw matt, nick and chris already at the party.

You arrive at the house and walk up the drive way, you enter the house and already the smell of weed and the sweaty bodies going straight to your head.

You run straight to the kitchen to find some alcohol, you took a shot of vodka, then another and then one more just for the fuck of it. You leave the kitchen and walk into the living room trying to scan familiar eyes, no luck.

You walk upstairs to see the other living room, you see all three familiar faces but one catches your eye. Seeing that tall,pretty,blonde and green eyed girl on his lap. His face drops when he see's your face drop, he gets the girl off his lap but he's to late. Your already down the damn stairs.

You run down stairs tears falling out of your eyes, fidgeting with your phone trying to call your friend to pick you up. Matt's right behind you trying to get your attention,"y/n! y/n!" no reply from you, your just trying to get out of that damn house.

You feel the alcohol starting to kick in,fuck.You think to yourself. Your hands finally grab the door handle and slam the door in matts face, everyone's attention lands on matt. He doesnt care about everyone else, he tries to get out the door. But that familiar blonde girl taps on his shoulder "matty, what was all that about?" she says. "Nothing, dont worry about it grace." he says in a harsh tone.

He runs back up the stairs telling Chris and Nick that they need to go.

As you walked out that door, your bestfriend nicole was there to pick you up. "hey babes, are you ok?" she asked in a gentle tone. You didnt answer and just nodded, your nose was red, your eyes were red with runny mascara running down. She could tell you were not okay, but she didnt want to bother you now.

2 weeks later..

19 missed calls from chris, 6 missed calls from nick and 2 texts from matt.

You didnt even bother checking your phone. You hadn't even ate in 5 days, hadn't took a shower in 2 weeks.

You just curled up into a ball in your bed in the hoodie that Matt gave you on your first date. Nicole had knocked on your door, asking to come in. You didn't answer so she took that as a no and left you alone.

While you were depressed Matt just partied and hid his feelings, Chris and Nick knew what was up but didn't dare to ask.

You finally had gotten the courage to check your phone and instantly went through Matt's instagram. Just to find,Her.Her.Her.Her.Her. She was in every photo she was even tagged. You clicked on her tag just to scroll to see her perfect body, thats all she posted.

After a hour you were done,you threw your phone and just cried into your pillow.

Matt had cried and sobbed, just never so anyone could see it. He always tried to text you and call you, he just never could hit the damn button.

You knew posting Gracie on your story would torment y/n and you always tried not to press that damn button. But you always did, Gracie wasn't the one you wanted. You wanted y/n and you fucked up that night. You were drunk and Gracie was there, you knew your brothers weren't gonna interfere but you damn well wish they would've.

You had issues and she had issues, you two loved each other to the point it hurt. You wished you could've prevented what happened that night, you had wished it never happened.

I always came to Nick always trying to get his opinion and screaming into his face for not stopping me from all of this. At the end of the night I would curl into his arms and bawling wishing he were y/n.

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

SO WHAT DO YALL THINK?

@christinarowie332 @strawberrysturniolo @mattitties @nicksnosering @chrisenthusiast @mattsgirlie @mattsnymphette @chrissolosa @chriscumsworld @sturncrazy @sturniolopowers @sturnioloskies @sturnisposts @mattsturnioloarchive @chrissturniolosbitch @mattsturniolosworld @chrissturniolosbf

Lemme know if you guys want a happy ending in part 2

[jinkicake]

~ ♡ Hate That I Love You ♡ ~

(( Day #6 )) Scaramouche, Xiao, Zhongli x Reader

A/N: I wanted to write enemies to lovers so bad i love a mean!character.... it kinda went yandere maybe? that makes it better!! ((after editing... why do i kinda want to add more like,,, i love mean!characters and their soft spots...))

[[also my sweet anon who asked for another arranged marriage im gonna try to post it tmrrrrr maybeeee-]]

WC -  1,706

~~~

Scaramouche

“What are you wearing?”

Scaramouche’s voice is filled to the brim with disgust as he mockingly scoffs down at you, you’re a fool.

“You look ridiculous.” Despite the scrunch of his nose and the bright hatred burning in his eyes, his irritation is the polar opposite of the swirl of desire in his stomach.

He can’t help but run his eyes along your bare legs, greedily zoning in on your soft thighs. Why are you wearing such a revealing outfit? He hates it.

“Thanks,” You spit back with just as much frustration and annoyance, you dislike it just as much as him as the material on your skin burns. “I don’t want to be wearing it either but someone has to seduce the head of the Kujou clan.”

“What?” Scaramouche now sounds dangerous, more so than normal but you ignore it altogether.

“Were you asleep during the last meeting? Once we get the Tenryou under our control, the delusion factory can continue production without any suspicion.” You roll your eyes at him through your mirror, sneering at his hard expression, as you pull all of your hair into your fists. “Should I keep my hair up or down, what do they like in Inazuma?”

As you fumble with your hair, Scaramouche heads further into your room. He slowly walks behind you and does not go unnoticed through your mirror.

The puppet thought that with Pierro sending the two of you on a joint mission to Inazuma that he would finally get a break from the rest of the Harbingers. Scaramouche planned to ditch the efforts halfway through but now, as he looks at you, he can’t think about anything other than stopping this ridiculous plan.

“You’ll never be able to seduce a man like this,” He hisses and roughly slams both of his palms against your vanity, essentially locking you in under his broad form. Scaramouche nearly begins to shake, his lies choke him by his throat. The worst part of your ‘seduction tactics’ is that you don’t even know how powerful they are.

“Right,” You laugh and wave him off with the back of your hand before running your fingers along the various products on your desk. Your earring is right beneath your touch, almost in your grasp but then Scaramouche grabs you.

He cups your jaw with a rough hand and grabs your wrist, effortlessly pinning it to your table.

“Look at you,” He murmurs lowly into your ear, staring at your annoyed expression in the mirror. With the close proximity, he doesn’t hesitate to take a deep breath of your floral shampoo. The smell is intoxicating. “you couldn’t even if you tried.”

“Well, the Jester thinks I could.” You snap and it makes the man behind you grit his teeth, you know exactly what buttons of his to push. It becomes a daily thing to push his limits past his breaking point. “I’ll come back to you untouched, I promise."

The gentle smile on your lips, teasing him with a subtle upturn, makes Scaramouche drop his hands. He rips his touch off of you like you’re made of burning glass.

“As if I want you.” No amount of grit teeth or annoyance can make you ignorant of his lie.

You continue to place your earring in as he stomps his way out of your room.

“Hmm, I know that you do.”

Xiao

“I had nowhere else to go.”

To say Xiao is shocked by your presence would be an understatement, he’s completely frozen in place almost as if he is a statue on the roof of the Wagshuu Inn. You’ve finally found him and sought him out on your own despite all of your differences. He’s astonished but, doesn’t let it show on his face.

“I know that you don’t like me but, I need your help.” The vulnerability in your eyes does not cover the irritation pinching your skin, your lips are curled upwards as you try to fight back a sneer and there’s a slight twitch in your brow. Xiao continues to remain silent, merely observing you, and you take that as a sign to explain further. “There’s a group of Hilichurls that have made a camp on the road back to my house. I would have gone around them but, there were two Ruin Hunters on either side of the path.”

“Why not ask Ganyu?” He finally speaks, voice low and quiet as he brings up your coworker. You stubbornly bite the inside of your cheek and turn your face away from him.

“I’m not going to bother her on the one night she is able to get some rest.” Your tone is dangerous, malicious even, and Xiao thinks that if your strength rivaled your hatred for him then maybe you would have been able to get rid of those monsters yourself.

But, despite it all, he’d rather you not fight. A pathetic mortal being, a human, could never do the work of an adeptus. He has made that perfectly clear to you time and time again.

“Fine.” In a flash, he is before on you the balcony and holding out a strong hand. You look at it, look at him with uncertainty but place your fingers over his own nonetheless. Xiao scoffs at your sudden timidness before engulfing your wrist in a strong gloved hand. Before you know it, the two of you are in front of the dirt path that leads to your house.

The adeptus keeps a strong grip on you as you stabilize yourself on the ground, still not used at all to teleportation. He guides you to a tree far enough away from the chaos that you would not get hurt by him or the monsters, and forces you to sit down by the base of the overflowing wooden limbs.

“Wait here.”

You don’t bother to watch as he slaughters the beings, the sounding clunks of metal falling to the ground and screeches of surprise do not phase you. As someone who monitors and works alongside the adeptus under the Liyue Qixing, this chaos is nothing new.

Xiao returns to you in less than a minute, looking as indifferent as before.

“It is done.”

You bite down on your tongue to hold back any snarky remarks, you need the break to think of a way to properly thank him.

“Thank you,” The phrase of gratitude is a start and Xiao helps you up back onto your feet with a strong hand. You give him a gentle bow of your head, looking him in the eyes for once as you flash him a genuine smile. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

Xiao blinks at you before tightly swallowing. Something shifts in his features, you see it but then, he hides it all behind his mask.

“I’ll walk you home.”

Zhongli

“I do not need his help nor will I ask for it.” Under your angry expression, Ganyu nearly flinches.

“(Y/N)-”

“Why would I ask the man who ditched his status as a god to live among the mortals? As if I would ever reach out to him and ask for help when he is the entire reason I am in trouble in the first place!” You don’t listen to what else Ganyu has to say, you’ve made up your mind and leave her behind at the Yujing Terrace.

You’ll die before you let the mortal help you, you absolutely refuse.

The world will heal that way, life will be balanced since you were supposed to die thousands of years ago. For whatever reason that god saved you and forced you to a life of violence and bloodshed under his contract, you’ll never understand. Had he not saved you, you wouldn’t be in this position. You would have rather your life end early than fight until your last breath.

“This is ridiculous,” You murmur lowly as you stare at the scenery now before you. Beneath the Huaguang Stone Forest, it seems that every common enemy known to man is present. There are too many Ruin Guards to count and for each handful, there is another Ruin Grader towering over them. Hilicurls roam underneath them, rummaging for food as the Mitacurls rest with axes and shields by their sides. “why do I have to do this?”

Hostile beings or not, you would rather not slaughter them but, each night their numbers keep growing. A handful of weeks ago it was three Ruin Guards and now there are at least thirty. Each and every single one of them has a duty to fulfill just as you do.

It becomes painfully clear as the need to protect Liyue grows stronger in your gut, your weapon appearing in your hand out of thin air. You’re led by a contract, signed by Morax, to slaughter until the light in your life gives out.

You hate him for it.

“Do not attempt to fight all of those creatures,” Zhongli announces his presence behind you with his voice, controlled and calm. Somehow, he appeared without you knowing. You nearly drop your weapon in annoyance but, remain still and silent. “I heard from Ganyu that you were facing troubles.”

“It’s none of your business.” You murmur back and Zhongli combats this by placing one of his strong hands on your shoulder.

“Is it not?” He asks and steps closer, nearly over top of you as he stares down at your hard expression. “I take care of my friends.”

“We are not friends.”

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Zhongli brushes his finger over your cheek and you instantly flinch away from the touch. His strong grip only grows firmer to keep you still, finger now brushing under your jaw. “Regardless of what we are, I take care of my Adepti.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me, I don’t want you to.” You glance over your shoulder to face him with cold eyes and, it doesn’t phase Zhongli in the slightest. He lowers his face slightly before angling his gaze to your own.

“I will always take care of you. You will live until I can let you go, my gem.”

You despise the insatiable obsession he harbors for you.

2023/02/11 ♡

[alexiseatzbeez]

I'm Low On Gas And You Need A Jacket

Hiii !! This is my first time writing a creepypasta oneshot thing so that's fun. This is a ticci toby x reader thing that I thought about and wanted to write. It's also posted on my quotev (link at the end) where you can request other things for me to write !! Also this is my first time specifically writing for Toby so I know I probably missed some things, so if I ever write for him again I'm gonna be better about that. Ok onto this lol

It was the middle of December, and the snow was coming down steadily, matching the twinkle of the stars above. The frosty wind blew through your poor choice of clothes for the weather - a plain long sleeve shirt with jeans. You shivered as you mumbled to yourself, 

“Could’ve bundled up a little…”

There’s not much you can do now with a car low on gas and no one around to help, and being miles away from home didn’t help much either. 

The surrounding woods felt never-ending and did nothing to comfort you. The empty streets with old lamps flickered as you tried to figure out what could possibly be wrong with your car. A feeling in your gut told you that something was wrong, so you tried to work quickly. You shakily sighed as you shivered, fiddling with the car's buttons and levers, inspecting the car’s old gas pump, slamming your fist on it a few times just to see if that would work. You muttered under your breath again, starting to become annoyed with the thing,

“Damned thing won’t work…”

A huff of frustration left your lips, watching as steam clouded in front of you, making you remember that you’d probably freeze to death if this stupid car wouldn’t start up again. Your aggravation was quickly replaced with a small gasp of surprise when an unfamiliar voice rang out behind you, 

“You know, you probably shouldn’t b-be out here at this time of night.”

You jumped as you heard the voice, snapping your head to turn and face where it came from. You were met with someone you’ve never seen before in your life. Behind you stood a man with shaggy, uncut brown hair and orange ski goggles pushed up to rest on the top of his head. He wore multiple layers, including a plain black hoodie with a brown coat over it with jeans that almost looked too big for him. He was pretty tall, but the main thing you noticed was the giant bandage on his cheek, wondering what would be under it. Something else that caught your eye was the way he was acting. He'd occasionally twitch his neck or mutter something that sounded like it came out involuntarily. 

He stood a couple of feet away from you, not moving. You kept your gaze on him, confused as to where this guy even came from knowing you were in the middle of nowhere. You cleared your throat before speaking, trying your best to keep your voice steady even though worry started to fill your body. 

“I-uh… I know that.”

You immediately felt like a dumbass the moment the words left your mouth, turning away from him to look at your car again before looking back at him. You could feel yourself shake, like it was getting colder, or you were just becoming more nervous, you couldn’t tell anymore. The man spoke again, his voice sounded gravelly, like he was trying to make it sound deeper than it was, but you couldn’t tell or care at this point. All you knew was that he freaked you out and you wanted him to leave you alone. 

“Doesn’t look like you do or you would’ve been somewhere safe by now.”

He scoffed at the end of the sentence, making a whistling noise before stepping closer to you until he stood right beside you. He seemed ok, but something in his tone and his body language set alarms off in your head, telling you to ditch the car and run. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about this guy. He spoke again, realizing you weren’t going to say anything, 

“Look, it’s freezing and you’re car doesn’t look like it’s gonna do anything anytime soon”

His gaze moved from her face, to her car, to her clothing, letting out a sigh as he smirked and scrunched his nose, furrowing his brows as he shook his head

“And what’s with the-the outfit, anyways? This your idea of winter attire?” 

He chuckled as he spoke, rolling his eyes as he pointed a long finger at your chest, judging your choice of clothing. He made you feel dumb, but being out this late in this weather wasn’t exactly your choice. You’d be long gone and at home in bed if you had the option. You could feel yourself tense up as he stood closer to you, keeping your gaze on his face to try and figure out what his intentions were. Beside you, he studied the car, pointing at the gas pump and commenting on how you were low on gas like you didn’t already know that. The whole thing made you wanna yell at him and tell him to leave you alone, instead, you took a breath and tried to keep your cool as you responded,

“I didn’t have a jacket, I’m not supposed to be here. I’m kinda supposed to be at home by now but this piece of shit car won’t work.”

You paused your rambling, realizing you were probably oversharing. This guy didn’t need to know why you were here, or what you were doing at the old gas station. He nodded as you spoke, even though his face displayed that he really didn’t seem to care about the situation. He kept his gaze at your car as he spoke again, his voice felt monotonous with a hint of cockiness,

“S-sounds rough. So you’re just gonna freeze your ass off here while you try and fix that thing? You must be crazy or just plain dumb.”

A smug smile grew on his lips as he twitched his neck again, making you take note that he also had a patchy looking beard growing, too. You began to grow frustrated, taking note of this guy's features just in case he did something. You began to feel more uneasy. What the hell is he still doing here? Go away. The man was surprised by your lack of response, he was obviously trying to get a reaction out of you and was disappointed when you didn’t give him one. He spoke up again, you desperately wished he’d just shut up, it was like he couldn’t stand the silence.

“Maybe that’s the universe telling you that you need to stop pushing your luck.” He gestured to the wilderness that surrounded them, pointing specifically at the forest near the gas station, "You're out here all alone and your easy prey for anything out there.” 

Furrowing your brows and squinting, you stared at whatever he was pointing at. Your brain felt like it was melting from what he had said. What a creepy ass thing to say. As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. The forest was creepy as hell and being alone at night in the middle of nowhere was never necessarily smart or safe for anyone. His words began to sink in, if anything, you were more afraid of him than anything in that forest right now. You huffed as you faced him, starting to lose your patience,

“Look, I don’t know where you came from or why you’re here, but I’d appreciate it if you helped me or just left me alone. I’ve had a shitty day and I’d just like to get my car working so I can go home.”

Once you finished speaking, you saw him frown a little in response. His eyes burned holes into your skull as he absorbed what you had said to him. Your stomach dropped, you fucked up. The world seemed to stand still, the eerie silence filling the freezing air between them. He said nothing at first, only staring down at you with a piercing gaze, sending a sharp shiver down your spine. The only thing that broke the silence was the bitter, howling wind. His voice felt louder as he spoke up again. His words sharp and targeted towards you, 

“You’re real mouthy, aren’t you?” his lips curved into a thin line, eyes narrow as they continued to burn into you, “I’d w-watch out with that if I were you.”

Your brain told you to run, leave the car and run somewhere, anywhere but here. You realized that was stupid as you took into account what was around you. Your eyes darted quickly, trying to look at everything but him. Dread filled your senses as you remembered that you were truly in the middle of nowhere. You looked back at him, trying to figure out what he was trying to do. Words uncontrollably spilled from your lips, you were desperate at this point, unable to control the shakiness in your voice, 

“Wh-what do you want from me?”

It felt like the man's goal was to just make you as uncomfortable as possible. He remained silent for a minute, watching you shift nervously in place, fiddling with your thin shirt sleeves as you desperately tried to stay calm, looking him in the eyes. This guy knew exactly how to get into your head, eyes narrowing as he stayed quiet, waiting for you to break. His neck jerked to the side before he spoke,

“Well, the way I see it, I could either help you get your car r-running, or I could leave you here for the wolves.”

You felt like your heart was going to burst from your chest right then and there. Was he threatening you? It wouldn’t be shocking at this point. You stayed silent for a moment, realizing you’d have to work with him if you ever wanted to make it back home. You cleared your throat, voice still shaky from a mix of being cold and absolutely terrified. You nodded as you held out your hand for him to shake,

“What’s uh- what’s your name?”

This was your genius way of trying to fix this strange situation and get on the guy's good side. His eyes narrowed as he looked at your shaking, ungloved hand. The smallest look of surprise filled his features before he grabbed onto her hand and gave it a shake. His grip was firm but thankfully not too tight. He smirked as he shook your hand, looking up to your eyes as he scrunched his nose, “Name’s Toby.” He paused before continuing, still holding firmly onto your hand, “Yours?”

You let go of his hand before responding very bluntly, “I’m y/n…” You purse your lips together before looking at your feet, you didn’t know where to even go from here. You stayed silent until you heard snow crunching under Toby’s boots as he walked to the front of your car, popping the hood up to inspect it. You stared at him as he stared blankly at the machine, he looked absolutely clueless. You knew you were already screwed, but this guy just seemed to be making it worse because he had absolutely no clue what he was doing. 

He placed a hand on his head, seeming perplexed as he studied the car. It didn’t take an expert to tell you that this guy was just as lost as you were when it came to fixing shitty broken down cars. The tension was thick and the air had taken on an unsettling aura, one that you’d only felt a handful of times before. You felt your heartbeat quicken as you tried to find a way to calm yourself as he tried to work on your car. The demeanor shifted completely. 

You decided to try and talk to him, thinking it may make you feel better. As he worked on the car, you noticed something shiny reflecting on his back. There sat a hatchet, strapped over his shoulder. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now that you could see it, you only felt more uneasy. Swallowing thickly, you spoke as you pointed to it, watching him snap his head in your direction, 

“What’s um- what’s with the hatchet? Are you a lumberjack or something?”

The question sounded stupid. You mentally smacked yourself on the forehead, a lumberjack? Really? He seemed amused by the question, chuckling as he looked at her and cocked his head to the side. The hatchet had barely been covered by his coat, taunting you to ask him about it even if you'd regret it in the end. You could practically hear the teasing and smirk in his voice without needing to even see it on his face, “A lumberjack?” 

After a small pause, he shrugged, his gaze returning to the vehicle as he spoke, “No, I’m not a lumberjack.”

The response made you furrow your brows in confusion. You knew the question sounded dumb, but what else could he be? Upon further inspection, you noticed how rusty the hatchet actually was. It looked old and like it was in need of a replacement soon. The silence was killing you, so you spoke up again. Your voice sounded off in the sharp, cold air, “So then,,, what are you, exactly?” 

This was as normal as this conversation could possibly get. They’d talk about what they do for work, he’d somehow fix the car, and then they could go their separate ways and never see each other again. Your question was getting closer and closer to the truth. The hatchet sat comfortably on Toby’s shoulder, like he was used to having it there, its rusty surface seeming to reflect the moonlight above. Toby gave you a sly grin as he looked over at you again, taking a few seconds to just stare before speaking, 

“Do you really w-want to know the answer to that question?” 

His tone felt like he was teasing you, implying that his answer was going to be something horrible, something you wouldn’t want to know. There didn’t even need to be a physical threat for you to feel uncomfortable again, your imagination filling in the blanks as to what he was trying to say. 

You paused, trying not to just snap right then and there. You felt your eye twitch as you took a deep breath in and out. Did you really wanna know? All you wanted to do was talk about what each of you did for work, not try to solve some random guy’s weird cryptic rhymes and codes. The anxiety was bubbling up inside you, you wished this guy could just say something normal for once. You nodded slowly, not able to find the words you wanted to say. 

Toby was clearly enjoying your reactions, continuing to grin and stare you down as you waited for his response. Eventually, he spoke again, the cocky smirk never leaving his face, “I guess I’m in the hunting business, I don’t really have a name for it.” 

You nodded in response to his answer, watching his neck twitch again as you tried your best to speak up and make this feel normal again. You took into account his whistling and twitching thing, deciding not to ask him about it since it was so hard to learn what his job was. Your voice sounded dry, “I’m uh- I work at a coffee shop.” 

He laughed at your response which made you scoff a little, why was that funny to him? You couldn’t understand why he was the way he was, you just hoped that your patience would reward you by getting your car fixed and getting the hell out of here. You turned away from him, looking at the gas station. It looked run down and abandoned. Sighing, you kept your gaze on the gas station, you were done talking to him. 

The air grew still as you felt a creeping sensation crawl up your spine. The sound of rustling and your car's hood slamming down caught your attention, causing you to jump in shock. Your head snapped towards him, a confused look on your face. Before you could even speak and ask why Toby did that, you noticed what he was now doing.

His movements started slow, reaching for the hatchet’s handle on his back, grabbing it and placing it in both hands with a firm grip. You felt your eyes widen as a pathetic noise left your throat as you tried to ask and beg to know what he was doing, staring at him as you felt yourself freeze, trying to stumble away,

“I’m bored, sorry it uh- sorry it had to go this way I guess. It- it was nice knowin’ ya, y/n.”

Toby spoke dryly, shrugging as he grabbed at your shoulder, yanking you closer to him as he raised the hatchet over his head with his other hand before it came swinging down towards you. Finally, a shrill scream ripped from your throat.

Here's the link to that quotev I mentioned also

[queenburd]

Cross posted to ao3. Very mild formatting differences. Comments make me happy.

Hey, folks, this one is heavy, long, and full of repetitive text and phrases. While I know that's par for the course with this game, I bring it up because I know writing it made me feel weird at times, and it intentionally leans into its theme of deterioration. Take care of yourselves. We're dealing with the Figurines Ending, the Epilogue, and the Skip button.

If you like my writing, please consider tipping me. I also have commissions and a paypal donation button.

|.|.|.|

The first thing Stanley does, when the reset hits and he finds himself staring at his desk, is pick up the mug that sits on the corner and hurl it out the door of his office. It hits the wall beside the doorframe on the opposite side of the room, and shatters on impact.

“Stanley?! What in God’s name—“

He screams.

It’s a hoarse noise. It’s deep and it’s broken and it hurts to get out, but he screams because there’s something horrible inside him, something he needs to purge. The noise cuts out, and then begins again.

The chair is grabbed next—he hooks his arms around the backrest and lifts the thing to chest height before he flings it with all his strength. A wheel catches on the doorframe to his office and the chair crashes to the floor, hitting the wall with an almighty, horrendous crash and sliding partway across the hideous beige carpet.

“Stanley!”

His chest heaves with fierce, angry panting. His cheeks are wet. Another noise wrenches itself from his throat. Stanley turns to his desk and swipes his arm across everything on it, knocking pencils and papers and pens to the floor. He slams his fists on it. He turns and kicks one of the filing cabinets, turns and paces in the little room like a caged animal.

There is so much built up inside him that he doesn’t know what to do with. All he knows is that he’s going to rip this place apart with his bare hands.

It’s not just anger, you must understand. It’s much more complicated than that. You see, Stanley has just come from the Epilogue.

-

The sand blows around him. The wind is cold and fierce. The sun is unforgiving. The moon is a large lamp in the sky.

And Stanley is alone.

He walks for what feels like eternity. He walks for what seems like mere minutes. He walks towards nothing. He turns in every direction. He puts one foot in front of the other.

And Stanley is alone.

The fire doesn’t warm him. He can’t dislodge the chairs from the ground. There’s sand in his shoes and shirt and mouth. He wraps his arms around his chest and walks and walks.

And he is alone.

-

“Yes, I'm remembering something now. I remember before this whole story got started.

Back then, I was... I was different; I used to make big decisions, I was passionate! I was skeptical! I weighed each decision with profound thoughtfulness.

And then, somewhere along the way, I stopped making decisions.

I became lazy. And I came up with—well—I came up with a character named Stanley, to do my thinking for me. He would make the decisions, he would decide which way to go, I would cheer him on as he collected figurines for no reason.

Why did I invent Stanley? Was I lonely?

Yes, perhaps that's it. Perhaps I needed to imagine I had companionship. And Stanley really did make for a wonderful companion, even if he was a fiction.

But—ahh, I suppose it's grown old. I-I want to think for myself again. I want to go back to how it used to be.

Yes, I can be on my own again. I can do it! I'll be stronger this time. I'll take care of myself. I don't need Stanley anymore.

Oh, but he truly was so much fun to play with!

You know what? Since we're in the Memory Zone, how about one more good memory?

Let's go back, just once, and give Stanley one more run of the office! And then, I'll retire him for good. I did enjoy telling his story—so very much.

Okay, here we go.

This is the story of a man named Stanley.”

-

The Memory Zone is flooded with sand. The bucket does little to comfort Stanley, even as he holds it to his chest. He follows the power cord deeper into the deserted building, feeling numb.

-

[ Narrator? ]

[ Narrator, what are you talking about? ]

[ Can’t you see me? Hey! Hey! Narrator! ]

[ Why won’t you answer me? Answer me, please! ]

[ Narrator! ]

-

“I’ll take care of myself. I don’t need Stanley anymore.”

-

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

The buttons glow softly. He presses them mindlessly.

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

What once was a source of amusement leaves an ashy taste in his mouth. The bastard never tried, in the end, to make these buttons work. Like everything else, he half-assed it, then abandoned it when something else caught his interest. Left it to collect dust. Left it to be forgotten, with the rest of the oh-so-precious memories.

With Stanley.

Hurt blooms in his chest. It’s been minutes—it’s been years. Time doesn’t mean anything at all in this stupid game. Nothing means anything. The thousand thousand runs they’ve played don’t mean anything. The conversations they had don’t mean anything. Their friendship doesn’t mean anything.

He doesn’t mean anything.

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Stanley.”

-

“Stop sniggering, Stanley, you’re ruining my take! Oh, it’s no use, we’ll have to start from the top.”

Stanley giggles around the hand he has pressed firmly to his mouth. He wants to be apologetic, and he’s glad the Narrator is involving him in this new promotion for the upcoming update, but the delight in him keeps bubbling over. It’s so rare to see the fellow direct that old familiar vitriol at someone other than Stanley himself. After so long knowing him, hearing him attempt to be menacing and nasty is outright silly.

“Wh—Silly?! You impetuous—Stanley, stop laughing!!”

Sorry, he’s sorry! A little off-balance from his own laughter, Stanley climbs onto the set and adds another tally to the whiteboard there.

“Unbelievable,” the voice mutters while he climbs back off the set and makes sure the camera is still centered on the tripod. “Here I am, trying to make a serious critique of game developer habits, and you demand to be included so I include you, and what do I get? Mockery. Absolutely ridiculous.”

Comments like these do little to dampen Stanley’s spirits, but he does attempt to sober himself. He does, after all, appreciate that the fellow has gone through all the effort to include him in brainstorming this one and setting it up. It was his idea to include the clocks and the tally board, and he really does think the shot is improved for it.

He sits back into the metal folding chair quietly. No more laughing. Promise. He’ll manage it this time.

The Narrator clears his throat. “Right. Let me review the script again.”

Stanley nods. His eyes flick around the small office set, then back to the computer monitor.

Man, has it really been almost nine years? It feels like they’ve been doing this for much longer.

“Well, really it’s only a little more than eight years, if I’m being honest. The original HD game released in October of 2013, so depending on when Ultra Deluxe drops in 2022, it may only be a couple months past the eighth anniversary.”

That’s being a bit generous to the developers, Stanley thinks. Does the Narrator really think it will drop in January?

“Oh, I don’t know, Stanley! I’m guessing, same as you.”

Still. Over eight years. Why does it feel like they’ve been here for much longer?

“Well,” the voice sniffs, “it could be for a number of reasons. Time is relative in the Parable, after all. Then of course there’s the fact you rarely sleep, since you don’t need to, so you get a lot more time than most proper humans would, since the usual human circadian rhythm makes them lose at least eight hours in a day. That’s fifty-six extra hours a week you have over most. Multiply by fifty-two, and then again by eight, and that’s not an insubstantial amount of time, I would say.”

That's fair. That's... shoot, Stanley isn't fantastic with numbers. That's... Fifty by fifty is twenty-five hundred, then six and and two is twelve—

“Twenty-three thousand, two hundred ninety-six hours. Divided by twenty-four, it's an additional 970.6 days, which means over two and a half additional years.”

Did he just pull up a calculator?

“Didn't.”

He totally did. Stanley heard the tapping of old clunky buttons.

There's a derisive sniff. “Yes, I suppose you would be the expert on buttons, and not maths.”

Also, is that two and a half years extra per year, or altogether?

“....I don't know.”

This is gonna give him a headache.

Quite without their meaning to, the both of them begin to chuckle at the same time. It's ridiculous, honestly. They're bickering over math, over time and takes and it's all just so ridiculous.

Eight years, give or take two or possibly twenty. That's how long it's been since Stanley started wandering these halls with little more than a voice for a companion. That's... that's a lot of time together. It's a lot of time for things to change. He kind of likes how things have changed.

And, as the fellow said before, time is relative here. They can and have experienced things on a different scale from how an experience would play out in the real world. Their own individual experiences are different even from each other's, with lost time, pauses between death sequences, loading screens—it's all subjective. Guess Einstein was on to something there. Bet he never imagined it in this kind of context, though.

Still. It's a long time with one other person. The universe spins on, and they have each other.

There's the tapping of keys again, a little soft muttering. He smiles.

He's double-checking the numbers, isn't he?

“No! No, I'm not, thank you!” The defensive tone in the Narrator's words confirm that yes, he is. It's made further obvious by the following deflection. “Now, that's enough of a break, let's get back to work. And no giggling this time, Stanley!”

He clears his throat, and the lights dim on the set. Stanley settles back in the metal chair with a grin, arms crossed.

“What does it mean to be a video game developer?” The voice begins. “It means lying, boldly and brazenly to your audience; promising them release dates that are wildly outside the realm of reality...”

-

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

Why is he still pressing it? Why can't he stop? Why is Stanley shaking, fingers pressing down on the plastic again and again?

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

When did the Narrator make this? When did he—and why is it here, with the rest of the discarded buttons? Why would he go through the effort to make something, just to leave it behind?

The button doesn't answer him. He presses it, and presses it, and it says his name until the word loses all meaning.

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

-

Every time you restart the game, we’ll advance the number of the sequel by 1, and then we’ll pick a new subtitle. That way, The Stanley Parable will never end! And nothing in the game itself will change when you do this, either. Adding more content sounds like work, no need to do that. It’ll just be the same content, recycled again and again and again, with a new title screen! What do you say? Should we go forward with this plan? I like it, but I want you to have a say as well. [Let’s do it]     [Don’t do it]

He stares at the dark screen, but he doesn't really see it.

Stanley feels cored out. There's an emptiness in him that he can't truly comprehend. It hurts, he thinks, but he feels it in a detached sort of way.

The Narrator is gone. Stanley is alone. Yet, even now, he faces choices that are designed around traps for one or both of them. How is that fair?

How is it fair to ask him if he wants to go back to the office, to go back to companionship, when the companion in question has apparently abandoned him? How is it fair to ask him if he wants to drag that person back into hell, when they've supposedly freed themselves from it after years?

-

“How they wish to destroy one another. How they wish to control one another.

How they both wish to be free.”

-

He doesn't want to be alone, in this wasteland. He knows in the end what he's going to choose, and he hates that he does.

He's selfish. He's so, so selfish. His loneliness is more important than the Narrator's happiness, that's what this decision says. It says that he would rather force them both to live through the Parable, again and again, forever, than have the Narrator leave him.

And then, here's the kicker! Is this even Stanley's own choice? Is he coming to the conclusion himself, or is there another force at play, a Player, influencing his decision? He can't know! He only ever knows the Player's presence in the godforsaken Real-Person ending, they only ever fully yank the control from him there. Can he even trust his own mind?

Does... Does it matter?

[Let’s do it]

-

Stanley is not a good person.

-

So. As I said before, reader. Stanley's emotions are a complicated tangle of hurt, anger, despair, and uncertainty. It's almost impossible to tell where to begin when it comes to unraveling it all.

Still, one must do one's best.

-

For as long as the Parable has existed, it has spun around conflict. Taijitu, or yin-yang, is a circle made up of two teardrops, one black and one white, circling each other endlessly. A wheel that turns forever. Opposing forces that will never overtake the other. Always equal, always opposite.

But you recall this, don't you? This isn't new information. We've been here before.

Stanley and the Narrator are equal and opposing forces, circling each other. Stanley makes a choice, and the Narrator responds. Stanley moves forward, and the Narrator tries to pull him back. A battle for control—one only ever responds to the other. Neither of them can claim to want this, but if they didn't want different things, then there would be no game to play.

Time and again, the Parable tests the bond that has been crafted through time and care. Memories are taken. Time is stretched thin as it can go, like a rubber band. Stanley makes a choice, and it brings the Narrator joy or suffering. If he stops, the Narrator will be at peace, but then there will be silence, and silence cannot be tolerated. Silence is the equivalent of inaction.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, this is a game about control, and the lack of it. If you could find happiness through a single choice, but it would bring another person pain, would you do it?

How they both wish to be free.

-

But these two have turned a battle into a dance. There will always be a drop of yin in the teardrop half of yang, and vice-versa.

So how do they fight back? How do they choose to progress, when the wheel turns ever back? Or are they doomed to repeat the cycle forever?

-

When Stanley has had enough of his pacing, when the silence has become too oppressive for him to take, he turns on his heel and sharply faces the open door.

Well? Nothing to say? Nothing at all?

“Well,” comes the bitter retort, slower than expected, “I would ask what you expect this tantrum of yours to accomplish, but that isn't exactly the most constructive comment, is it?”

A hiss escapes through Stanley's bared teeth. That's it?

“What do you want from me?!”

It's desperate. It's hurt. It's confused.

“What have I done, Stanley? I can't make sense of you right now, your mind isn't making any sense!”

Of course he doesn't remember. Of course it's Stanley's job to be the one who remembers, who chooses, who deals with the consequences of both their actions. That's how it's always been, that's—

“Stanley, I know our situation has never been balanced fairly in your favor, but I—“

Stanley storms out of his office and kicks his chair out of the way. He grabs a cardboard filing box off the floor and lifts it over his head before flinging it hard. It hits the cubicle wall by the copy machine and the lid flies off, papers scattering across the floor and box bouncing off the top of the copy machine to fall harmlessly to the floor.

“What has gotten into you?!”

Stanley snarls again, at the open air, the ceiling, wherever he thinks the Narrator might be perceiving him. Never been balanced fairly?! Understatement of the millennia! Speaking of millennia, did the Narrator enjoy his little vacay away from Stanley? Was it fun, “thinking for himself”? Leaving Stanley in the sand with the rest of his discarded little game, his figurines and buttons?

“I—“

Did he come up with new stories? New protagonists? Was he stronger? Was he happier without him?

Did Stanley drag him back to hell?

The silence this time feels distinctly more shocked and hurt. Stanley lets out another noise, pacing across the carpet and then turning to door 429. He lifts his fist and slams hard on it, face twisted up into an amalgamate of pain and anger. He beats his fist on the door again, desperate and despairing.

Say something! Say anything! Fight him! Argue with him! Be angry! Be angry that Stanley was so selfish, that Stanley decided to get revenge for being abandoned, please just—

“I'm sorry.”

He flinches.

“I don't—I don't know what I did, but I think it must have been something terrible. I just can't stop, can I? Even when I'm trying to, to be careful, I can't stop being cruel to you. You're angry with me, I can see that, and you don't—you don't like to be angry, so I—“

The voice trembles. It sounds on the verge of tears. Stanley hits the door again, because it hurts to hear, and that's not fair.

Damn him. Damn his own empathy.

“I'm sorry,” it says again. “Whatever I did, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you somehow. Do, do you want more endings? I'll make new endings, I'll find a way. I'll find more for you to do, I'll come up with something, please just let me fix it. I'm sorry I don't remember, but I'll fix it.”

Stanley screams hoarsely again. His legs give out and he drops, leaning against the bottom of the door with his fist pressed to it. His chest heaves, shaking sobs that wrack his frame, though there's barely any tears. It's just so hard to breathe.

Stop, stop. Stop. Stop apologizing. Stanley is the one in the wrong here. Stanley turned the wheel back. Stanley tore him from his happy ending.

Didn't he?

“I didn't go anywhere,” the voice responds, distraught. “I never left.”

Then what was that?

“I don't know,” it pleads. “Even if I could go, I wouldn't. I wouldn't leave you behind, you're my best friend. I thought you knew that, Stanley.”

He thought he did, too. But then the voice had called him a fiction again, something dreamed up for companionship, and had decided it didn't need him anymore.

The Narrator is quiet at this, and then he says, very carefully and in a voice terribly controlled, “I only ever thought that when you were frozen with the Skip button.”

-

The Narrator waited, but he was not stagnant. At some point, while Stanley was in a small concrete room, lit with only the glow of a yellow button on a pedestal, the Narrator decided to pass the time by making something new. Surely, when all this was over, when they were back in the office, they would put this behind them and pass the time as before.

For all that the new content for Ultra Deluxe had been a disappointment, hidden in the download were folders and folders of unused assets. It seemed that the developers had had countless ideas, and yet had done little to expand on those ideas, choosing instead to box them away. Well, the Narrator would show them what new content was supposed to look like! Who cared about Ultra Deluxe? No, he would really knock the reviewers' socks off. He was going to make a sequel! Stanley would love it!

When he came back.

If he came back.

No, of course he would come back!

And so time passed, and that was fine. More time meant a chance to perfect his work, to work out his new features and to even perhaps address some of the complaints people had had about the original game. And more time passed and he thought he might make a button that says the name of the player, wouldn't that be rewarding and engaging? Stanley would love that! A button of his own to say his name, wouldn't that just be delightful?

And Stanley stared unseeing at the Skip button, and the Narrator thought to himself, perhaps not. Perhaps Stanley wouldn't care at all.

But that was fine, because there were plenty of new features for him to explore! He'd love the Bucket, surely. All the silly secret Easter eggs, the little references to lore that went nowhere, he'd get a kick out of it for sure! And the figurines! There wouldn't be anything special about them, of course, but the fact they were Stanley! His silly face! Oh, the Narrator would be so excited to see Stanley get them all, and of course Stanley would, because he would do everything. He would find every single one.

And, and the Narrator was so excited for that! Maybe he didn't know how Stanley would react, maybe Stanley would think it all silly, but the sheer fact he would find each one, it would delight the voice to no end. It would say “you found one of them! One of the figurines!”

It would be so much fun! Wouldn't it, Stanley?

Stanley?

Ah. Still frozen. Of course. Not a problem. The Narrator would be here when he got back. The sequel would be here. The figurines would be here.

He would just get everything ready in the meantime.

Wouldn't it be wonderful, when Stanley was here, and able to play? There would be so much for him to explore! He would love the Bucket and finding its secrets, and oh, the figurines! He'd find them all, surely he must. And the Narrator would say “you found one of them!”

And one of them would be by the red and blue doors, and Stanley would probably get that one last, but there was no guarantee, he did like to keep the fellow on his toes, but when he did collect the last one, the Narrator would say “and now the first number equals the last number!” And it would be so exciting! Even though there was nothing special about them, just the experience itself, doing something for the sake of it, was so special, and he'd think about it always.

-

“It was such a wonderful fantasy. And so in his head he relived it again, and then again, and again, over and over, wishing beyond hope that it would never end. That he might always feel this free. Surely there's an answer down some new path, mustn't there be? Perhaps if he played just one more time.”

-

And the Narrator would say, “yes, another Stanlurine under your belt!”

-

“But there is no answer. How could there possibly be? In reality, all he's doing is pushing the same buttons he always has. Nothing has changed. The longer he spends here, the more invested he gets, the more he forgets which life is the real one.”

-

And the Narrator would say, “I haven't stopped thinking about them since you nabbed every last one.”

And the Narrator would say, “science tells us that it's impossible to forget your third time doing anything.”

And the Narrator would say, “No, no I'm not ready to move on! Stop the loading screen!”

-

“And I'm trying to tell him this. That in this world he can never be anything but an observer. That as long as he remains here, he's slowly killing himself. But he won't listen to me. He won't stop.”

-

And the Narrator would say, “We'll do the Memory Zone again from the opposite direction! See how that feels!”

And the Narrator would say, “I want to keep going! What else is there? What came before this?”

And the Narrator would say, “And before everything else, there was your office.”

And he would pause, and then wonder aloud, to nobody in particular, because nobody would be there, “Was there anything else?”

There must have been. He was sure of it. He was sure there was something, or perhaps someone. But that couldn't have been right, you see, because if there was someone, then he wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't be talking to himself, someone would be listening to him. Someone would hear him. That's what—that's what Stanley was for!

But Stanley wasn't doing that. Stanley had not done that for a long time. Had he imagined Stanley? He must have. He imagined many things, after all. Yes, he must have made Stanley up, to listen to him, to have a companion. It's terribly lonely, after all, being a voice without an ear.

Maybe he should move on. Try something else. Maybe that would be for the best. But—oh, but Stanley made him so terribly happy. Just like those wonderful figurines. He loved to think about Stanley's adventures, he loved telling his story so much. Just like the figurines, he'd have to indulge himself.

Just one more time.

-

Just one more time.

-

Just one more time.

-

“It was such a wonderful fantasy. And so in his head he relived it again, and then again, and again, over and over, wishing beyond hope that it would never end. That he might always feel this free. Surely there's an answer down some new path, mustn't there be? Perhaps if he played just one more time.”

-

And the end was never the end. Was never the end. Was never the end.

-

Can you see? Can you see how much they need one another?

-

“I'm sorry, Stanley,” the Narrator says again, sorrowful. “When the game reset, everything was saved. The sequel content, but also the things I found myself saying during the interim. It's all here, somewhere. It's all my fault.”

So he never left?

“Never.”

And Stanley hadn't dragged him from his happy ending?

“No.”

He slumps further against the door. A hand absently lifts and scrubs at his face. So he's just stupid.

“No, I don't think so,” the fellow says generously. “I think you're hurting, understandably so. I think the Parable seeks out ways for us to try to make the other miserable, so that we will keep trying to control each other. You know the song and dance.”

Where it cannot find conflict, it will manifest it.

“Yes. We've been here before, haven't we?”

They have.

-

I asked you, before, how they overcome it. I told you they'd made a battle into a dance instead. How do they do it? How do they choose to progress when the wheel turns ever back?

But you already know the answer. You've already seen it. Don't you remember?

We've been here before.

-

“Stanley, I'm not going to hurt you.”

-

He didn’t want Stanley to be scared of him.

-

“Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

-

[ New path, new story. Just me and Stanley. ]

-

If Stanley gave him context, he could get to the memory himself?

-

“I—I can’t recall if I’ve said it before, how grateful I am to you, Stanley.”

-

This time, by the time the hold music has kicked on, Stanley is on the floor, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

-

[ Don't ever. Call yourself DADDY. Again. ]

-

Did he just pull up a calculator?

-

He’s listening. He’s listening, and listening, letting his friend know that they exist, together, the space between them closing again, and for as long as he can he won’t let the narrator be alone in the void.

-

The unwavering strength in his voice feels like an untapped well of passion. Like he’s working to fuel them both through this damnable path, letting Stanley know that yes, yes, they are moving towards something, he has not abandoned him.

-

“Please listen. This is important to me, alright? It’s not your fault.”

-

Stanley's fist has loosened and relaxed against the door. Now it rests there, gently curled, as he thinks.

They have been here a long time, in this game, and he is tired.

So now what?

“Well, now I think I'll close the figurines exhibit, so something like this doesn't happen again.”

The Narrator's voice is rather cool and detached. It lacks distress. It's professional. Words stated in the same way as a script, memorized by heart. Stanley doesn't like it.

He presses his hand flat to the door and rests his temple against it. It's cool against his face.

And after that?

“That's up to you, isn't it?”

Quite without meaning to, Stanley flinches again. The Narrator nearly speaks, before he cuts himself off, seeming to think better of it.

It's hard on the spirit, to be the one who has to make choices. Thinking of what they might mean, what the consequences could mean for others. Certainly, there's power in making decisions, but with that power comes the burden of responsibility. Include the added ordeal of being the one who remembers every consequence, every outcome, and one is left with the distinct feeling that they are being punished. There is no winning here. There is no gaining the upper hand.

He is so tired of making choices.

“Then, perhaps I could convince you to listen to me, and follow direction, for a few minutes.”

Something prickles in the back of Stanley's head in old familiar irritability. He doesn't want to do the story. He doesn't think he can get up.

“I didn't say anything about doing the story, now, did I, Stanley? Close your eyes.”

An innocent enough direction. He obeys, adjusting his position against the door to lean his back against it, hands in his lap.

“Good. Very good, Stanley.”

Still all professionalism. Still lacking familiarity, or anything more than casual approval.

“Now. Take a deep breath. Good. Now let it out, slowly. There you are. Again.”

His breathing steadies and his heart slows. Tiredness gives way to calm.

“Excellent. Now. I'm going to speak, and you're going to listen. That's it. No choices, no paths. Just my voice, and your ear.”

That's not a game.

“No, it isn't. It's a story, and you're my audience. Now. Quiet your mind, there's a good lad.

This is a story about my very good friend Stanley.”

-

“Stanley's had a rough go of it in his life. He likes simple things, like pushing buttons, and drinking coffee completely black. This isn't to say Stanley is a simple-minded fellow, oh no, not at all. In fact, Stanley is one of the most intelligent and compassionate people I know.

The problem is that, for all that Stanley prefers simplicity, he's been put into an impossible position. He's a protagonist of a story.

Now, everyone knows that the best stories aren't the ones where things just happen to a protagonist, but instead the ones where the protagonist plays an active role in progressing the plot. Making choices that result in changing the direction of a story, towards its climax and resolution. It's all well and good that Hansel and Gretel have been left in the middle of the forest, but they choose to be clever and leave a trail of pebbles behind them, before being forced to resort to breadcrumbs—and then of course the choice to use breadcrumbs changes the trajectory of their tale.

The truth is that being a protagonist is anything but simple. Quite without his permission, Stanley has become inundated with responsibility. It isn't an easy life, and it can quite honestly be an unfair lot to give to the fellow.

But if you ask me, there's nobody better suited to the job.

Now, perhaps this is unfair of me to say. After all, I'm not the one who has to make the decisions. All I have to do is tell his story, as a passive observer. Look at him, look at how he struggles, doesn't this make for an incredible tale of overcoming odds? I of course will never have to shoulder the burden he does, so I can say what I please without any regard to his own well-being. Oh, don't give me that look, Stanley, you and I both know it's true. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes if I were paid to do it.

Yet I've been watching Stanley for quite frankly a ridiculous amount of time, so long one might call me an absolute creep. It's true! And so I feel I am at liberty to say that, for all that it's an unfair position to be put in, and a terrible burden to carry, there's nobody who carries it like Stanley does.

You see, he makes every choice to the best of his ability. He thinks about its ramifications to the best of his knowledge, and does his best to consider what his decision might mean in the long run. Take this recent choice, for example. He's decided to listen to me, for a few minutes, even though it's in his very nature to take action and to disagree, because he knows that I asked him to. He's chosen to compromise, despite the fact I could press an advantage.

He's done so, because he knows in his heart and in his mind that I care about him. I want him to be happy. He knows, based off prior knowledge and based on his own gut feeling, that listening to me will make him feel better, because he matters to me.

And this is a simple choice, deceptively so, but in its simplicity it is a perfect example of what I'm trying to convey—

That Stanley does everything to the best of his ability, with all the care he can muster, and that no one could ever judge him poorly for doing the best he can.”

-

Stanley doesn't know when he started crying again, body wracked with the force of it. It's quiet, at least. When the Narrator stops speaking, he still feels him all around, comfort on every side.

Does he mean it? Does he really—?

“Of course I mean it,” the voice huffs, faux offense warm in his ear. “Don't you know by now that I mean what I say? Don't you—“ it wavers a little, before pushing on, a touch shakier. “Don't you know how much you mean to me?”

He cries. The sigh is fond, and gentle.

“You're alright, darling. It's alright.”

-

Taijitu. Balance between black and white. The symbol didn't always have the two dots, you know. In the original concept, yin and yang symbolized stillness and activeness of all things in the universe, respectively. The substance of the universe moves as an active force, until it reaches its limit and becomes still; and yet even that stillness reaches a limit, and becomes active again. The dots, added during the Ming Dynasty, have since their inception been a portrayal of how one will always be the source of the other, and so both will always exist. There will always be an interconnected, interwoven, powerful bond between these two forces in flux.

Which doesn't mean much, to those of us who don't study Taoist philosophy or history. Most of us just appreciate the duality of opposites, who cannot help but have a grain of commonality. One does not and cannot overtake the other. Round and round they go, an endless chase.

Or, one might note, a dance between partners. Momentum carried through. Weight supported. Stepping in sync.

The wheel turns, as do the dancers. This is how they succeed. When one slips back, the other grabs them by the hand and guides them forward with the grace that's only gained through years of practice and familiarity. The wheel turns without catching, and neither are caught under its grind, because they're standing on its face, using it as the platform on which they perform only for each other.

-

Stanley dries his eyes and wipes his nose. He's sorry for causing such a mess.

“Please, I've seen you do worse and we both know it. Remember the time you threw every chair and box out the window to see if you could make a ladder back up into the office?”

He laughs weakly. Not one of his brightest moments, admittedly. The Narrator had threatened to navlock every last item in the office down if he tried it again, after.

“Which, of course, only motivated you to try again.”

Yeah. Because he's a bastard.

“That you are, Stanley.” The Narrator chuckles. “Now, up you get. Up, up!” he reinforces, while Stanley sluggishly gets to his feet. “I have a surprise for you!”

Oh boy. That can only be good, he's sure.

He's led through the office to the TSP 2 Expo sign, which has returned to take the place of door 416 for good, it seems. When the Narrator guides him through the display environment, he takes care not to rush Stanley, since the thin monitors and patterned carpet delight him more than he ever thought possible, but it's also clear the fellow is eager to get a move on, to show Stanley something he's sure will knock his socks off.

So when Stanley gets to the Jump circle, displaying twenty-one jumps left, he's distinctly unimpressed.

“Just trust me,” the Narrator says, with nothing but earnestness.

And so he does. He steps into the circle.

“Jump!”

With a barely-there smile, and a roll of his eyes, Stanley jumps.

And then the game resets.

THEENDISNEVERTHEENDISNEVERTHEENDISLOADING

Stanley blinks, looking at his computer monitor, then up. Uh... What?

“Stanley,” the voice says slyly, “when have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

“Now. Jump.”

Stanley's eyes widen. He blinks.

And then he jumps.

He jumps again.

And again.

And then Stanley begins to laugh, utterly befuddled and delighted and surprised and joyful, and the Narrator begins to laugh as well, and the wheel spins on, and so do they.