#i got lazy with their suit details but i just needed to get them out of my system

[graffitistars]

"This seat taken?"

"Get the fuck off me."

.

The Honda Odyssey scene has got me in a chokehold

[tarjapearce]

Miguel x reader x punkmiguel?????

PRETTY PLEASE 🥺🥺🥺

Hope this makes it justice 😳 (No proofread at all I warn you.)

art by @bumbleboots_art in Ig

The Multiverse was still a baby concept for you. All you knew was that in other universes there were exact copies of you, doing any sort of things. A doctor that would surely make your parents proud, a stripper, that would surely cause the opposite effect. It was like Barbie and her own Multiverse.

Miguel had just quirked an eyebrow when you used the metaphor. But in your universe, you were another Spiderwoman, and you had been recruited by none other than Miguel O'Hara. HQ soon turned into a second home for you.

Annoying as you were sometimes, your input had provided him a different perspective, that bit by bit, had made you earn a spot in his personal circle. You adapted well, quick learner and practical.

---

Smoke filled in the place. The pressure levels from the particle accelerator had gone a bit too over the top, a miscalculation from both you and Miguel.

The explosion in the lab had created a rift, a small portal, enough for an unsettling scene stand before you, Miguel, Jessica and Hobie.

Another Miguel had gone through the rift, tearing through the fabric of space and time. But this wasn't your usual grumpy faced, sarcastic ass and perpetually tired with a chronic savior complex Miguel. No. He was just as tall as your groaning in pain boss, same facial structure. Yet he wasn't.

This portal Miguel had his hair ruffled, yet stylish, contrary to the neatly, well combed hair do you were already used by now. This Miguel had piercings in his face. His brow, and lips and ears to be more specific. He wore a leathery black jacket, the "NO FUTURE" caption drawn into it. Scruffy jeans with a studded belt and heavy boots. His fangs were out, he wore them proudly you had noticed.

Your Miguel, the one that was always grumbling about something, just stared back at him with a frown yet wide eyes. It was as if this Miguel had hung around too much Hobie, which just stared at him with a lazy approval smile.

A punk Miguel. They were face to face, seizing eachother with scrutinizing gazes. A typical 'opposite twins'. What archetype would each one be? Your Miguel would surely be the responsible and well behaved twin that would rarely to never break the rules. Describing the other would be to only make it out even more obvious.

The punk Miguel smirked at him.

"Puta madre, Qué viejo me veo." (Holy shit, I look old af)

Miguel frowned immediately as you giggled.

"¿Where am I?" The alternate version of your boss/almost lover spoke as he took in whatever his eyes could Guitar hanging upside-down his back. Just like Hobie's, hand tucked in his jacket.

"Miguel?"

"Hm?"

"Sí?"

The both turned to face you once more, speaking at unison.

"We need to send him back, as soon as we can."

"Should we give him a temporary pass?"

"No."

"Puedo oírte desde acá , jefazo." (I can hear you from here, Big boss)

Miguel scowled and faced him.

"Cállate." (Shut up)

"��O qué?" (Or what?)

This Miguel smirked playfully.

"Alright, Alright. Let's calm down." You got in between them, nearly sandwiched between the mass of muscles and clothes to then create a bit of space between them.

"Let's play nice. We gotta figure a way to get him back home."

Punk Miguel wrapped an arm around your neck and spoke

"Gotta listen to her, old man. Don't wanna hang out in a place where you see yourself as the face of oppression. " Hobie saluted him from afar.

Ouch.

"Call me Miggy, Princesa."

Miguel's eye twitched at your stupified state and his words. You smiled at him, excitement sparkling in your eyes.

Trouble. Everything smelled like trouble. Jessica just rolled her eyes.

----

Reluctantly he ended up giving Miggy a temporary pass. Technically he still was Spiderman. His suit had you like a fangirl, marveling over the littlest details. Just like Hobie but darker and meaner.

Miguel would give you tasks, sometimes absurd ones, just to keep you away from himself. Literally.

"What's so funny?" You giggled as you went through the tasks

"Oh, nothing." The not so subtle jealousy from him was endearing to you.

The rest were as fascinated as you were. Miggy and Hobie surely clicked. They would ramble on for hours about their situations and how things were going in their universes. Never in his wildest dreams Hobie would admit that this Miguel was nice to be around.

---

Of course Miggy would scurry within missions whenever something caught his interest. He was more than capable in the battle field, still it was like having an unhinged different version of him. Still to this day it was bizarre to see himself acting like that. Like a total stranger.

Miguel couldn't help but wonder if he had gone through the same in his universe. He had overhead a bit of conversation with Hobie and just mentioned losing someone really important during duty. A requirement that seemed the only demand to join the Spider Club. As Miggy called it.

----

"¿Nunca te relajas?" (You never catch a break?)

"No."

"¿No is everything you say?" He smirked

"No. Yes."

"Con razón hasta canas tengo." (No wonder why I have white hairs.)

"¿Puedes callarte?" (Can you shut up?)

"The only good thing of being you is that we have this princesita here." He gestured over you as you sat down on a further chair.

"Guys, play nice." You mumbled as you entered the room. Miggy smiled your way, hands hoarding you briefly and twirled your body before letting you go.

"There is no we in there."

Miggy shrugged as he eyed you

"Sharing is caring, amigo."

"I'm not your friend. Nor share."

"Déjala elegir entonces. ¿O el pensamiento libre también es una amenaza para ti? " (Let her choose then. Or free thinking is also a threat for you? )

You couldn't help to shrink further and further at his words. Your cheeks were impossibly red, your stomach fluttered. Despite the fight, the both complimented eachother so well, like black and white. What one lacked, the other compensated and viceversa.

You gulped as both Miguels set their deep red eyes on you. Expecting. A shiver ran down your spine. The alarm of an anomaly flared up, you had never ran to duty so fast.

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part 12

Well my gorgeous little lemon-chops we are finally getting there! My brain was absolutely scrambled trying to think how to write this chapter! I hope you like it? please lemme know <3

Our little Y/n is about to make a deal that will change her entire undead life!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

Stepping outside the hotel you spy a black car pull up. Hurrying down the steps you are surprised when a sinner gets out the driver’s seat and opens the back door for you with a small bow in your direction. Okay. That’s new. Thanking them you slide in and relax in the lush leather seating. Perhaps having them a little bit wrapped round your finger is a good thing?

Being directed to Vox’s office you admire all the decoration on the way, distracting yourself from the fact you were going to have a meeting with two very powerful Overlords who may – or may not – try and hook you into another deal. Knocking on the oak door you let yourself in when you hear his voice. Okay Y/n you’ve gotta stick to your guns! No offering anything unless you get a better offer. And do NOT get distracted by their flirting! You got this!

Peeking your head round the door you smile at Vox who was sat behind his desk, looking up when you entered, a lazy smile spreads across his face. “Ah my lovely little songbird, finally you made it” he motions to the seat opposite him. You close the door behind you. As you walk over to the chair trying your best not to roll your eyes you huff.

“Vox it was barely half an hour since you texted me to meet you, you’re lucky I didn’t have any better plans” teasing him as you take your seat, he chuckles.

“Better plans than seeing me?” Biting your bottom lip, you let your gaze flicker down his usual suit, admiring how even sat down he commanded power. Catching his darkening expression, you smirk at him.

“Perhaps”.

“Princessa, you wouldn’t be teasing our Voxxie now, would you?” Your undead heart nearly leapt out of your chest, twisting quickly you give an amused Valentino the stink eye. Not funny.

“Bloody Hell Val, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Having them both snigger at you made the scowl on your face deepen. Where was Velvette when you needed her? She kept them both in line. Most of the time.

“My apologies Y/n, I didn’t mean to scare you so…” one of his hands tilted your chin up so you were looking at him, he himself was leaning down so your faces weren’t so far from each other. The sweet smell of the cigarette smoke that clung to him tickled your nose. “Forgive me?”

Hmm. Flirt. “I suppose so”, laughing when he taps your nose with a smile of his own. Standing back up he walks around the table to perch on the end next to Vox, purposefully shoving documents out of the way annoying the other Demon. Now, having two powerful Demon’s staring at you was just a bit nerve-wracking. Having two powerful Demons staring at you when you know they want something from you was just … a bit scary.

As no one was breaking the silence you decided to: “any who, how did you know where I was?”

“Darling, I always know where you are”, Vox rests his head on his linked hands, studying you. Those clever eyes taking in every detail. If you had less control of yourself, you’d fidget and blush under that gaze. Instead, you squirmed internally while externally smiling.

“Uh huh … you’ve been tracking my phone to show you where my location is, right?” It had been the main question you’d been asking yourself the entire car journey over. Of course he had tagged your phone. Those cameras of his only show so much of Pentagram City and from what Alastor told you, there weren’t any (or any that he knew about) in the Hazbin Hotel. At his lack of answer, you smirk at them. “You do know there is an easier way to find out where I am?”

“How is that?” They ask, Valentino sparking up another cigarette filling the room with that sweet, red smoke. Holding your finger up in a wait motion, you reach into your jacket pocket and pull out your phone. Typing in a number, you hold it up to your ear while crossing your legs as you stare at them both. After a moment a shrill ringing started from the top of the table, Vox looked at it confused for a moment before answering it. “Hello?”

“Hey handsome, so just in case you’re wondering where I am. I am currently sat in your office with two very hot Overlords discussing how they can just ring my mobile and find me like a normal person instead of tracking me like a piece of game. Okay gorgeous – gotta go important things to discuss. Mwah. Kisses”, you tease before hanging up the phone and slipping it back into your pocket. An amused snort distracted you from your stare down with Vox. Valentino was quietly laughing to himself as Vox shoved the phone back on the table with a scowl.

“Oh Vox, our Princessa certainly has a funny bone”, he joked while pinching the bottom of Vox’s screen affectionately. If that had been anyone else, they’d have lost their hand. Sometimes when the Vee’s showed you these different sides to them you could almost believe the sweet gestures that they would give to you – but then you remember who they are and that thought disappears. A little bit. Sometimes.

Vox shook Valentino’s hand off his screen, rolling his eyes he huffed a little. You and Val share an amused look. For a powerful Overlord, he really did pout like a baby.  Actually, come to think about it, they all did. What does that make you? The babysitter?

“So … boys, you demanded my presence about an offer you had for me? I’m here and all ears. What is it that you would like to talk about?”

“Yes. Me and Valentino have discussed about offering you a deal to sing at Valentino’s clubs. After seeing the …uh … opposition the other night well - someone who is associated with us needs to be working in the more upper-class joints than you are now.” Surprised by their offer you tilt your head in confusion, this is not what you were expecting.

“You want me to work at Val’s clubs?” You confirm with them.

“Yes.”

“As well as the other clubs I’m currently working for?”

“No”. Vox flicked through his phone. Blinking in shock you look up at the smoking Valentino, a wink was the only answer you got off him.

“Instead of?”

“Yes Songbird. We are willing to offer you more money than the rest of the clubs are offering you combined. Of course, you will get certain benefits and you are welcome to an apartment here in the Tower for security reasons and ease of getting to work, etc”. Ah there it is. The ol’ ball and chain.

“And what are you wanting in return for this rather generous offer?” You lean your elbows on your knees as you focus on the two Overlords.

“Your happiness…?” BUZZZZ Please try again. How stupid do they think you are?

“Uh huh. Wanna give that another go big boy?” Narrowing your eyes at them, you receive amused looks in return.

“Okay. We get your exclusivity to just us. It’s a brand deal; demons and sinners that work for us only work for us,” Val explains through a haze of smoke.

“A brand deal? I hope you aren’t planning on branding my ass with that” you jokingly ask - semi-serious.

“Don’t be so silly, we wouldn’t brand you”, Vox rolls his eyes as Val chuckles.

“Course if you wanted that Princessa, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement”, shaking your head at Valentino you focus back on Vox.

“But it you work for me, Val and Velvette – it’s a complete deal. You help showcase and sell the clothing line and Socials with Velvette, you work in the clubs for Val, and I need a little bit of you here and there for the VoxTek products to promote them. In return you get publicity, a place to live, more money than you’ll know what to do with and power”.  Was this sounding a little bit too good to be true to anyone else?

Biting your lip nervously, you lean back in your chair as you eyeball them both: “All in return for?”

Sighing, Vox gets up from his chair and makes his way in front of you. He leans against the table and looks down at you, Valentino was smirking over his shoulder.  

“You.” He wafts his hand at you.

Me? What on Hell? You uncross your arms and glare at him while stating: “Me? Thought we went through this; you aren’t having my soul”. Standing from your chair you go to walk away, this was a complete waste of time if that’s all they were after. Sharp fingers gripped your wrist yanking you back the few steps you had made towards the door. With one hand on your wrist, Vox’s other grips your chin gently and lifted it up so you were looking him dead in the eyes. Two other hands grip your waist, the sweet smell of smoke wafted around you as Valentino loomed over your back.

Tutting, Vox smirked, “It’s not your soul we are after sweetheart. We want you”. Confused you try to shake his grip off but he tightened it.

“Me for what?” What on earth could you give them that they didn’t already have?

“To be ours”. Well that stopped you in your tracks.

Possession. Is that what they wanted? “This is new…? Is this like you want me like a new shiny toy that has just come out at the store sorta thing? What when you grow bored of me? I’m just to be tossed aside like the rest of your toys” you bare your fangs in annoyance at them.

“No, we cannot see that happening Princessa, you have three of us to share – trust us, we and you will not be bored. And new? Hardly. We’ve been interested in your ever since we saw you sing one night. You didn’t see us at that club, but we sure saw you, mi amore. Since then we’ve been watching you, waiting and wanting”, breath caught in your throat as Valentino’s fingers stroked up and down your waist. Vox’s caressed your cheek with his thumb while keeping your eyes on his. What was happening?

“So? My little Songbird, what do you say?” He rumbles out, eyes lidded as his gaze flits between your eyes and lips. This has gotta be a dream? Right?

“Can I have a moment to think about this please?” you ask. After they both agree you remove yourself from their arms. Pacing the room, you begin to think through everything without their influence. Contract terms were coming to an end, but not all of them. You needed to complete those deals on your end, or you would end up with less power than you began with. You would not be saddled with a leash because of the Vee’s, you had a way to gain power and you would use it.

Turning to them both, you take a deep breath. Here you go.

“I agree to certain terms. However, I have my own stipulations. I finish out my old contracts while starting the new ones with you. I have deals of my own that I need to complete before starting new ones, you understand that? Also, I can work at other clubs, however they will be vetted by all of us before I take the job. I have a name that I have built up, I do not want to see it go to ruin. With the apartment – I can come and go when and as I please. More so than anything, I am my own person and will always be my own person.” You hold a hand up as they both go to crowd you again. You had to finish this before they managed to influence you again by their presence. Because as much as you could lie to yourself and to others, you were attracted to the Vee’s. If this was a chance to run with a bit of happiness and danger (because undead life was so boring without it) then you were going to sprint with it to the finish line.

“If I am to be yours – then you are just as much mine, and I don’t sleep around. I expect the same. I understand you three have an agreement and I’m happy to be included in that – but that is it”. Lowering your hand, you stand ready to hear what they have to say. The cowardly part of you doesn’t want to look at their faces. But the stubborn bitch in you wanted to make sure they knew you meant every single word you said.  

The gigantic smirks on both their faces made your cheeks redden, even more so when they both moved forwards so quickly that you were surrounded by them again. Hand under your chin once more, you raise your eyebrows at the smug Vox as he leans down so that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. Valentino was bending down from behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist pulling you close to his chest as his breath tickled your hair around your ear.

“Deal”, they both whispered. Well fuck!

Tags List:

@tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda @twinklethewarrior @martinys-world @rosiethevoxobesser

@the-maladaptivedaydreamer @songbrita @midge7838 @joumi13 @wonderlandangelsposts @th3rizzl3r

@ace-spades-1 @iamferalfordilfs

[thoseboysinblue]

Two Can Play

Mason Mount x reader

After he's teased you all day, you decide to give Mason a taste of his own medicine.

Word Count: 2500+

Requested: No

Warnings: Smut, swearing, teasing (under 18 DNI)

A/N: This is the first time I've written for Mason and to be quite honest, I'm a bit nervous. Feedback always appreciated.

"Fuck, Mason," you whimper, "I'm gonna..." you trail off as he presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans and trying to keep you quiet.

"No you're not, pretty girl, not yet," he chuckles against your lips as he quickly withdraws his fingers from you after edging you yet again. You let out a frustrated sigh when he slips his fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking them clean.

"Do you hate me?" you groan dropping your head against his shoulder as he kisses your temple.

"No, sweetheart, I couldn't love you more," he smiles innocently at you.

"Then why all the teasing?" you huff at him.

"Simple, it's fun," he chuckles back.

"Fun for you maybe," you grumble as you slide your hands down your body, smoothing the fabric of the dress you are supposed to be trying on.

"You're definitely getting this one," he says leaning back to take in your appearance as his hands slide around to cup your ass.

"What else is on the list to buy?" he questions you as he pushes the door to the dressing room open nonchalantly as if he didn't just have you on the brink of an orgasm few minutes ago.

"Maybe one or two more dresses, a couple of casual outfits, new bathing suits," you ramble through the list in your head of new things you need before your trip, his ears pricking at the mention of bikinis.

"I'm not letting you see me try those on though," you smile sweetly at him as he pouts his lips out.

He intertwines his fingers with yours as you select a few pieces of jewelry that will compliment your outfits and make your way to the register to pay. Once outside, he takes your bag from you as you continue wandering down the sidewalk towards another shop.

"I'm so ready for our trip, some sun, being lazy on the beach and by the pool, not being lazy in the villa," he winks at you.

"Keep up this teasing act and it's just gonna be you and your hand in that villa," you look at him with a stern expression on your face, trying not to crack a smile.

"I think you like the teasing, in fact, I know you like the teasing," he says back to you, noticing the way your cheeks flush.

Spending your days with Mason is as easy as breathing. You love that he just wants to be with you and doesn't seem to mind if that means shopping or finishing a million little errands to get ready for your trip. He happily sat with you while you got your nails done, holding an iced coffee out for you to sip on in the process, and watched as you agonized over the smallest details from shoes to clothes to jewelry to packing cubes.

You sent him down the way to a men's clothing shop while you nipped into a small boutique to grab a few new swimsuits and coverups and then to the shop next door to pick up a few new pieces of lingerie as a surprise. When you rejoin him, he offers to hold the new bags but you tell him they are full of secrets and keep them firmly in your grip while you peruse through the stack of items he intends to buy for himself.

As you hop back into his car, he slides his hand up your thigh, and you immediately clamp your hand down over his, "no, you can't touch me unless I get to finish," you arch and eyebrow at him.

"Well maybe I was going to this time," he laughs as he shifts the car into gear and backs out of the parking space.

"Oh, like you let me finish this morning in the kitchen, or in the car on the way here, or in that elevator, or the changing room" you smirk at him.

"Baby, I promise as soon as we get home, you will be taken care of," he winks at you, your thighs pressing together in anticipation.

Mason was always good to you, he made sure you were taken care of in every way imaginable, even if he did like to tease you sometimes.

Once home, he pulls you through the door and drops the shopping bags to the marble tiled floor, practically dragging you towards the stairs before turning you around and pushing you down so that you are seated a few steps above him.

"I owe you something," he growls at you, his pupils blown out as he settles between your legs, quickly removing your panties and dragging your legs over his shoulders. He pushes the sundress you are wearing over your hips to allow him better access to you as he kisses the insides of your thighs.

"Promise you'll let me finish this time," you say as you thread your fingers through his hair. "I promise baby, no more games," he says his breath fanning across your pussy.

You let out a small gasp when he dips his tongue into your entrance and licks up to your clit, flattening his tongue out before drawing the sensitive bud between his lips and sucking lightly. He chuckles when your hips buck towards his face and you tug at his hair, sending a shockwave to your core.

He slides two fingers into you, feeling the way you instantly clench around them as he continues to flick over your clit with his tongue. "So wet, baby" he moans against you drawing a strangled moan from you.

"Mase, please don't stop," you pant out, not even slightly embarrassed that you're already so close to an orgasm considering the number of times you've been edged today.

"Oh, I'm not stopping baby, not until you are cumming all over my fingers and face," he smirks up at you as he curls his fingers expertly against your g-spot and dips his head to suck over your clit again, his free hand coming up to stroke your left nipple over the thin material of your dress and lace bra.

You feel your walls continue to flutter as he's working you from both the inside and outside, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. A quiet moan escapes you as he hums against you, "come on baby, you're right there, I can feel it, just let go for me."

With that, your back arches as your eyes close and your head falls backwards on the soft carpet of the stairs when the orgasm you've been craving all day surges through you with a whimper of his name. He slows his movements to help you through it until your legs try to clamp shut around his head and you let out a giggle as you try to get away from him and avoid any more overstimulation.

He looks up at you from between your legs with a smug grin on his face, "that was quick," he winks at you as he withdraws his fingers and offers them to you for you to lick clean. He lets out a groan as you suck them into your mouth before sitting up to crash your lips to his.

You pull away from him, both of you out of breath as you softly smack him on the chest with the back of your hand, "I don't say anything to you when your a little quick on the trigger, so maybe you should learn to keep your mouth shut," you laugh at him quietly.

"Baby, we both know how much you love this mouth, especially this tongue," he chides you as his tongue darts out of his mouth to lick over his lips, wiping the rest of your juices from his face with the back of his hand.

"You're getting far too cocky," you grin at him. "Am I?", he moves to press a light kiss to your lips, before pressing his hardened length into the inside of your thigh, "speaking of cocks" he grins, raising his eyebrows at you.

You place a hand on his chest and push him away slightly, "go to the couch, I'll be back in a minute," you whisper against his lips.

He hops up and quickly moves to the couch as you disappear upstairs. You return a few minutes later to find him leaning back against the cushions, his feet flat on the floor, clad only in his boxers as he lazily strokes over his hardened bulge.

"Did I say you could start without me?" you arch an eyebrow at him while he eyes you curiously.

"What's in your hand?" he asks, watching as you approach him.

"Something for me to have a little fun with," you grin against his lips, taking the vibrator you're holding and turning it on as you circle it around his nipple.

"What are you going to do with that?" he laughs a bit nervously as you trail it down his body watching as he erupts with goosebumps and his hairs stand on end.

"You'll see" you smirk against his chest as you follow behind the vibrator with your tongue.

You slide his boxers down his legs, throwing them to the side and dragging the toy across his inner thigh. Watching the way his muscles tense nearly causes you to abandon your plans so that you can ride his thigh, but you continue with your teasing, determined to give him taste of his own medicine.

"Relax Mase," you breathe out "I'm not gonna stick it in your ass or anything" you chuckle as you hear him let out a relieved breath.

He lets out a groan as you wrap your hand around his hardened cock, eyes burning into yours as he waits for your next move. You pump your hand up and down him a couple of times, flattening your tongue against his slit to collect the precum that already started leaking.

He bucks his hips as you swirl your tongue around his tip before taking the vibrator and gliding it along his length, smirking when you hear him gasp.

You still the movements of your hand, holding him in place while you tease the vibrator around the head of his cock. "Baby" he whines, wanting nothing more than to feel your mouth around him. "What's wrong, Mase? Don't like being teased?" you chuckle at him, your face close enough to his cock that he can feel your breath over it.

"I need your mouth, y/n, please," he grunts out watching as you lick a stripe from his base to his tip, continuing to work the vibrator against him.

"Not yet, pretty boy," you mimic his words from earlier in the day, noticing the way his eyes close and his jaw tenses. You alternate the pressure of your hand and vibrator between firm tugs and light teasing touches until he's squirming beneath you, his cock twitching in your hand.

He whispers your name like prayer saying "please baby, please, I need it."

"See, Mase, teasing isn't so much fun when all you want to do is cum," you smile at him smugly, continuing your movements with the vibrator watching as he lifts his head and makes eye contact with you, his eyes pleading with yours.

You finally give in and wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around it. You feel him tense to keep from bucking up into your mouth as he lets out a faint moan.

"Fuck me," he whimpers as you take more of him into your mouth, sliding the vibrator down to his balls.

"I'm planning on it," you say as you pull off of him, dropping a pool of spit down his length and working him with your hand before taking him back into your mouth. He weaves a hand into your hair as he steadies your movements, "come on baby, you can take more than that," he grunts as you relax your jaw taking in more of him until you are gagging and sputtering as his tip hits the back of your throat.

He slides a hand around your throat, letting out a groan as you press your nose to his pubic bone. "I swear I can feel my dick in your throat," he says as he gives it a light squeeze.

You feel him twitch in your mouth, before he reaches down and pulls you off of him, grabbing the vibrator from your hand and pulling you to straddle him in one swift move. "I know you want me to fill you up, y/n," he whispers against your neck as he pulls your dress up and over your head, quickly stripping your bra off of you as well.

He wraps his mouth around one of your nipples as he glides the vibrator over your already sensitive clit. You let out low moan as he grazes his teeth over your other nipple before dropping his head to leave a hickey just below your breast.

You reach around to grab his cock, lining it up with your entrance, "already dripping for me baby," he sighs when he feels how wet you are. You sink down on him, loving the way he stretches you so perfectly.

"Fuck, y/n," he moans as he grips onto your hip with one hand, the other holding the vibrator over your clit as you clench around him when you start to move.

He throws his head back on the sofa cushions watching the way your tits bounce with every movement. "That's a view I'll never get tired of" he chuckles before you lean down to press a searing kiss to his lips.

He begins to thrust up into you, meeting your movements until you are both reduced to nothing but moans of each others names and a variety of curse words and praises.

"Baby, I'm gonna cum, you close?" he grunts out, sitting up slightly and holding you closer to him. "Yes, fuck, I'm close," you pant.

"Come on then, cum with me, y/n, let me have it," he says as his movements become sloppy and you grind yourself down onto him one last time.

"That's it, be my good girl, fuck, fuck, baby," he groans as your high washes over you and you bury your face into his neck, bringing on his own release as he drops the vibrator and grips both of your hips tight enough that you are sure you will have bruises.

"Jesus Christ, y/n" he says breathlessly as you place a few delicate kisses to his neck while both of you come down from your highs.

"Mmm hmmm" is all you can manage to get out while he trails his fingertips along your spine.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he says as you nod, your head resting against his shoulder.

"You're not too bad yourself," you giggle as you sit up, taking in his love drunk expression before kissing over the bridge of his nose. "I like the way your nose gets all red when you're working hard," you wink at him.

"This is definitely coming on the trip with us," he chuckles as he dangles the vibrator from his hand.

"Oh really?" you smile playfully at him.

"Definitely," he grins back at you as you stand up and quickly escape to the bathroom to clean up shouting over your shoulder, "two can play the teasing game, Mase, you should remember that."

Tag List:

@neverinadream @lovelynikol16 @chilwellspulisic @swimmingismywholelife

[klm-zoflorr]

Agnes Montague, the villain Phoenix :33

I used a stained glass filter on this one, looove how it looks. Also here are a few versions without as much editing so you can see the details.

Agnes is one of my favorites in this AU. And in general too I guess lol. So I made her entirely too overpowered! She's obviously based off Dark Phoenix/Jean Grey/The Phoenix from Xmen. Without as much of the hero-turned-villain vibes Jean has, Agnes can be nice but she's mostly a wrong-doer.

I'd probably say she's the most powerful super-human in the 'verse, or at least where the story takes place. Her and Magnus are buddy-buddies because. Um. I just want them to be.

So, her powers, right. She can control and

produce fire, lots of it. She can fly. The wings only appear when she wants them to btw. I think she has some form of telekinesis, sure why not plus I don't have a lot of people like that in the verse (and I'm quickly running out of canon characters anyways loool). I don't think I'll give her too many psychic powers? Maybe just some ability to block psychic attacks. Oh well nevermind lets just make her cooler let's say she can attack people psychically, as in not quite read their thoughts (even if I think she could grasp on some of the things you're thinking while she's there) but like, cause intense pain to her victim and maybe even kill them by hitting them with her mind.

Her hands are more like talons or claws, with tough nails and strong, too. She can rip someone's face off or hold herself up with them.

The nature of her powers make them somewhat incontrollable and ill-suited for precision work or limiting damage/casualties.

Despite all of that, Agnes is very tired and looks as such. Her abnormal body warmth makes her sleep poorly and not very much, if she isn't setting the room on fire or throwing objects around when she's having nightmares. She holds off from getting intoxicated in any way because she might level off the whole island if she did.

And the cherry on the cake... She can ressurect herself. AND others. Let the holy cleansing fire engulf you and be reborn anew with your sins scrubbed clean yadda yadda you know the deal. It resets people to a younger age and cures any ailment they have, so that's a rather extreme form of healing too if you will.

Naturally, with that sort of powers the Cult Of The Lightless Flame (named like that because Agnes hoggs all the light) treats her as a goddess. Which isn't that far from the truth actually.

Suffice to say in the story she is not the big bad our heroes have to take down because that would be straight-up impossible.

Design notes and misc:

-I usually imagine her with dark hair, but for this AU she really just had to be a redhead I feel.

-Yes, in the art she doesn't have feet but that's just because I got lazy.

-She wears practical gloves, a guilded shiny supersuit, impractical shoulder pads and a white flowy skirt and shoulder sash that both get set on fire very frequently. This is meant to evoke how she mostly doesn't care or need to be dressing appropriately for fighting, she's too powerful to need to.

-She doesn't carry anything on herself either, no pockets no bags no nothing, she has goons for that. She's just there to look impressive and deus ex machina everyone's asses to the ground if they get too annoying.

-She's lived a long life, done a lot, was in the military at some point which influenced a lot of how she thinks. Again, she CAN be unfrivolous and practical, she just doesn't want to and has to remain a symbol. She can shoot a gun pretty well.

-Her "crown" (it's a paper crown) is something children that admired her gave her. She's very very careful not to burn it, but can't wear it everywhere either

-She's not much of a strategizer or a long-term planner unlike Magnus, she just doesn't see the point in that and she already has everything she could ever want. She could have the potential to rule the city instead of having everyone vaguely follow her lead, but she's just not much of a tyrant.

Oh, yeah, and Jude. Jude Perry is Agnes' right hand woman and closest friend, her villain name is Lampadarius and she can make anything that isn't organic matter melt/heat up (like those cans in MAG012: First Aid). One of her favorite tricks is heating up her gloves and burning people like that. It pisses her off when you call her Agnes' guard dog. She's been ressurected a few times by the Phoenix, so been around for a while too.

[0yuri-chan0]

~Love less Nights~

Guys, Guys- okay okay listen hear me out! Just once! So Simon Petrikov from Fiona and cake. Listen this man might be old but he is fucking MHMMM! Delicious. So Ima make a fan fic about him. Yes, yes my followers are at my mercy. I totally get it but come on.

Paring - Simon Petrikov x F! Reader

Warnings - I'm to lazy to write them (Sorry)

Genre - NFSW

You and Simon were sitting on your front porch it was a month after Betty got infused with that creature only lord knows how that happened. Prismo a man you heard mentioned once in your life by Simon doesn't want to help get her back or can't. You didn't really push for more details. The wind blew gently when you looked at Simon, he looked hurt and devastated who wouldn't be? He had lost the love of his life a month ago. "It felt like my heart was ripped apart, My soul locked behind glass as I watched her be ripped apart from me."

Is what he had told you the night Betty was mangled with that horrible creature. The same night he walked up the very same steps you two are sitting on watching the sunset in silence. The same night he told you what had happened with tears streaming down his face, as you hugged him. Your fingers gripping the fabric of his Suit trying to get impossibly closer.

You'd never seen Simon in that state in all your years of knowing him. You'd never think you'd see that side of him the desperate side. The side that wants pity but at the same time doesn't. You think he'd rather be hated than pitted at this point. You knew he was near his breaking point. He was like a kid that got thrown into the deep end of the pool, and you weren't going to watch him sink.

You folded your hands into your lap with a small frown. It was getting cold and you knew Simon was still thinking about her, Betty. "Simon." You pause before looking up at the pink-ish orange-ish sky. "We should go inside its getting cold out." You said grabbing his hand gently. "And your freezing." It was true he was freezing, he was shaking like a leaf so to speak. You stood to your full height and walked into your house Simon following closely behind. "I could had saved her, Betty I mean." You sat down at the dinning room table Simon sitting across from you as he spoke softly. "I could had but I didn't I let her push me away and get trapped." His voice was raw you moved your hand and set it on top of his gently. Your eyes soften as you spoke in a caring voice. "She wanted to save you she cared Simon." His gaze met your only for a moment. But you could tell there was something more he wasn't telling you. You moved from your chair and sat in the one next to him.

You lifted his chin up with a soft smile, you wanted to be gentle its not like you always had hidden feelings... Right? "I'm here Simon, your okay now." Its was all friendly it wasn't like you were going to take advantage... Your train of thought stopped as he looked into your eyes. Hes so so very fragile, the look he gave you was so sadden. You couldn't help but lean down and kiss him. Both of your hands cupping his face. It's wrong you know its wrong. But it felt to good you always found him attractive in ways others didn't. You felt guilty for doing this to him.

Of course you felt guilty for kissing him who wouldn't? He lost the love of his life a month ago. Your brain stoped for a minute when he kissed back. One of his hands resting on your thigh when you pulled away. "If you allow me." You looked him in the eyes. You were sure your cheeks had turned pink by now. "I want to help you forget, even if its just for a minute." A nod was all you needed, and a nod is what you got. You stood up and grabbed his hand and led him to your bedroom. "I'll be gentle alright?" Simon felt your hands run up and down the sides of this torso. As you made your way to the bed you both took off each article of clothing.

He took a long breath and looked away from your naked form before laying on the bed. You moved and grabbed your strap and lube. "I haven't done this in... A while." Simon looked away embarrassed when he admitted that. You offered him a gentle smile which he gladly took. You placed a good amount of lube on your fingers, then entering two digits into his hole. His body jerked at the new feeling your digits scissoring him well enough to fit your strap inside of him. "Jesus! [Y-Y/n]!" He gasped as you brushed against his prostate. He was sensitive and the noises he made where adorable. You finally removed your fingers and lined up your strap to his hole. "Tell me if you want me to slow down or stop." You said sliding your silicone cock into him causing him to moan loudly. Your hand next to Simons head as you looked down at him with a low hum. You started moving your hips. Meeting his with a plat, plat, plat noise. And god was his facial expression was lewd.

After while you started to slam into him. Not enough to entirely break him but enough to make him enjoy it. His mind was unraveling by the second. All he could think of was the pleasure you were giving him. His hands clenched the sheets this didn't go unnoticed by you. It encouraged you to get deeper you picked up his leg and placed it on your shoulder so you could get a better angle. "H-Hah! I-Im going to cum!" He knew you acknowledged him when you hummed. Your hand moving to his cock stroking it at a steady speed you didn't want to overwhelmed him. Tears pricked into his eyes but oh you weren't done. You stop for a moment taking off his glasses and setting them on the nightstand. "What are you doin-!?" Before he could finish the question you flipped him over. Pushing his face into the pillow while he arched his back. You moved faster your fingers gripping and tangled into his curly hair while shoving his face down. The pillow staining with tears as he reached his climax. You rolled your hips one last time before he came.

His legs gave out on him, as he dropped to the bed you smiled satisfied laying next to him all he could mutter out from being extremely exhausted was a small 'thank you.' "Your welcome anytime Simon."

Guys its like 5:23 am and I wrote this y'know how you can't sleep if you're thinking of something. This was it I'm proud of it so.. Yeah! Request are always open unless stated otherwise. (Edit: guys so I made a part two✍ it's nothing dirty, just went into more detail about the night you comfort Simon👍)

[bread-tab]

okay random 4am rant time, don't take it too seriously, but: people need to recognize there's a difference between "bad worldbuilding" and "worldbuilding styles you personally don't like."

bad worldbuilding is, for example: internally inconsistent, bigoted, or something else that messes up the plot or characterization of the story itself. sloppy. careless.

things that are *not* bad worldbuilding:

minimalism.

i've been thinking about this in the first place because i saw a post about the Murderbot Diaries a while back (don't know who made it, don't care; this ain't personal) saying the worldbuilding in those books is bad and lazy. to me, as an avid sci-fi reader and writer, that is clearly not true. but i understood why they thought this. the series uses extremely minimalist worldbuilding which intentionally withholds a lot of detail, in a way that is consistent with the (nonhuman, robot, depressed robot) first-person POV. this could also be a feature of the author's writing style in general—i haven't read her other works—but i wouldn't bet too much on it.

the signature of intentional minimalism is that there *are* details about the speculative setting—they're just doled out very thoughtfully and sparingly. the intent is to leave you a little hungry for more. it's to make you think very carefully about the details you do have. this is best suited to stories that already have elements of psychological and/or mystery plot types. the worldbuilding you do see should still be believable, internally consistent, and have interesting implications if you think about it a bit. but you are for sure going to have to think harder to get it.

if you're not in the mood, i will concede, a minimalist style definitely comes off as a bit dry. if you are in the mood, it's relaxing.

whimsy.

this is a big one for sci-fi fans in particular. see: the constant debate about whether any particular story is "hard" or "soft" sci-fi, and whether soft sci-fi is bad, etc etc. but worldbuilding doesn't have to be realistic to be good. you're allowed to have Jedi and humanoid aliens and time travel in your sci-fi. you're allowed to have historical anachronisms and astrology and po-ta-toes in your fantasy. whether or not they're silly isn't the deciding factor on how "good" these worldbuilding elements really are.

the key thing is tonal consistency. you've got a serious high-fantasy setting with its own strict, un-Earth-like theology and magic system, and you throw Santa Claus in there? yeah, that's not gonna land well. but C.S. Lewis can get away with that in Narnia just fine. why? because the Chronicles of Narnia are whimsical children's stories with a strong Christian/Western mythological influence already, and their central conceit is a crossover between the mundane world and the magical world. of course Santa can cross over too. it's whimsical, but it's not actually random. (and if you ventured into straight-up comedy, you could get away with random too. as long as it's funny.)

the unreliable narrator.

i don't have a good example for this off the top of my head (maybe Murderbot again? idk, i'm sleepy, fill in your own) but i'll tell you how to recognize when this is done well.

by definition, an unreliable narrator has some key misconceptions about their own world. so how do you tell what's going on as a reader? how do you know the writer isn't equally confused?

you connect the dots. solve the puzzle. in practice this is similar to reading a minimalist setting—but instead of just sparse clues, you also have a boatload of red herrings. you can catch some of these misleading details by comparing them to your real-world knowledge and saying "wait, this doesn't add up." other times, the false clues intentionally trick you by subverting those real world expectations.

the trick is in the consequences. regardless of what the narrator says, their actions should still have logical consequences. there should be things going on that the POV character doesn't know about. the character will be forced to learn and adapt their narrative because of these shifting circumstances. you can catch them in a lie. the inconsistencies themselves tell a story.

...

i'm gonna stop myself there because this post is long and i oughtta be sleeping. just. this is a distinction worth making. is it really bad worldbuilding, or is it simply not the genre you're craving today? learn the difference for your own sake. you'll have an easier time realizing if a story is something you'll find enjoyable to read, regardless of its actual quality.

[hexgravity]

Sorry for inactivity outside of reblogs. Genuinely in the midst of an idea drought.

So I guess the current projects I'm working on are Fragile Life, an unnamed story.

Lost Marrow is something I'll dabble in when I feel like, had once tried to make it a story, does not work.

I don't think I'm a story/comic type of guy like I used to be. So most of my projects will be loosely connected drawings.

With that being said I do plan on drafting more refs soon.

Given the outfit aesthetics I gave everyone, I need to come up with some for the rest.

Here's like the the list of info I got so far.

Grian: his is tricky for me, currently I'm working with like a dnd ranger aesthetic but I'm not sure. I should probably give him something colourful to fit his parrot pet or a jungel aesthetic.

Scar: business suit, something akin to a snake oil salesman. He will scam you, and Jellie is his partner in crime.

Jimmy: giving him the coal miner aesthetic, he is not escaping the canary allegations and his pet is not helping his case, fairly roughed up looking since he's always out like 1st or 2nd.

Gem: something cottage core to fit her deer companion, I'm experimenting with her first with details so she'll probably be the first to get a finalized design.

Scott: his aesthetic is a beach outfit to match his seal pet, something more fancy hence why I keep drawing him with a towel skirt.

Pearl: something rebellious, loner wolf aesthetic to match her in series character and to fit Tilly.

Lizzie: I'm not sure with her, maybe a princess theme since her pet is an axolotl which is a nod to Empires Season 1.

Joel: he's got the frog so something swamp themed. Yes, I did pick the frogs so he cannot escape the Shrek allegations.

Tango: going with a warm fluffy winter aesthetic to fit his moth pet, thought it would also be nice to have him all cozy and it would make certain pairings interesting cause just imagine Tango and Scott in the same room, prepared for opposite seasons.

Martyn: I'm really unsure. I drew him in an athletic fit but that feels like less of a theme than the others, I feel I can get something better maybe something that matches his dog pet.

Etho: currently its a detective theme but not confident in it, his pet is a coyote, would be silly if he was a mix of Pearl and Martyn aesthetic but that also feels lazy.

Cleo: something fancy. She deserves a fancy aesthetic like the type of person who invites people to a house party. Their pet being snakes, which actually inspires creative ways to blend player's pets into them like snake hair or deer ears(Gem).

Impulse: I had lumberjack? But I don't think it fits. Miner also fits but that's Jimmy's aesthetic. Maybe if he was paired with Jimmy I would allow the overlap actually.

[sadiecoocoo]

Halbarry Week

relationships - Barry Allen/Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) & Bruce Wayne

tags - Whump, Angst, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Torture, Barry Allen Whump, Barry Allen Needs a Hug, Barry Allen-centric, Protective Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) Needs A Hug, Tags Are Hard, Not Beta Read, hurt/comfort, hurt Barry Allen, Blood and Injury

summary - Barry is captured and tortured by a serial killer that the CCPD has been looking for. Hal, noticing his friend is missing, goes looking for him only to find his apartment empty and devoid of life. so, naturally, he freaks out and calls the league and makes them all do a search party of the entire planet.

lowkey too lazy to do a proper summary other than this.

word count - 6,165

read on AO3

Notes: Just a warning, I have not read a single DC comic in my life. Any knowledge that I have is from animated movies/shows and fanfiction. you have been warned (also I don't know any character names in Central's police force so i simply did not name anyone :3) anyways, I didn't finish this in time for Halbarry week, @halbarryweekfeed but I was doing this for the one bad day prompt!

Barry’s leg bounced up and down as he sat at the League meeting. His hands were clasped together and he was fidgeting with his fingers. Batman was standing and giving the briefing, a paper in his hand.

The others were all listening intently, aside from Hal, who never really seemed to listen to anyone. Which, Barry couldn’t really blame him. He was feeling rather impatient himself at the moment.

He had caught himself multiple times switching into relative time, his leg bouncing faster and faster until it seemed like everyone else was moving in slow motion. Whenever it did happen, he would force his leg to still, despite the mental agony it caused him.

He couldn’t count how many all nighters he had had in a row at the CCPD. There was some new serial killer on the loose, and it was all hands on deck to catch him. Sadly, all hands on deck meant zero breaks unless it was his day off, and being the Flash, that wasn’t really a feasible thing.

Hal nudged his shoulder, making him jump ever so slightly. He glanced towards the lantern to see a small, teasing grin. Barry rolled his eyes and pushed his shoulder in retaliation. He was sure Hal was getting a kick out of him of all people not listening.

He tried to tune in to the conversation. They were halfway through something about another meta-trafficking cartel being discovered. He frowned, it seemed like every day there were more and more of those popping up. At least Diana had already taken care of this one.

There was a list of kids that were found there, and a list that had passed through, but already been moved. He clenched his fist at the sight of the long list of names.

As they all moved on to a different topic, he started to zone out again. His foot tapped against the floor, eliciting a few pointed looks from a few other members. He glanced around the room several times, taking in almost every detail while barely processing it. He couldn’t count the amount of times he stared at the clock.

When the meeting finally ended, he didn’t waste a millisecond to get to the zeta tube. Within minutes, he was running around Central and headed towards home, only stopping to grab a box of donuts.

He practically collapsed on the couch immediately once he got home. He barely spared a moment to change back into civilian clothes. He ate a couple of donuts as he debated going on to sleep or powering through for a quick patrol.

The decision was made for him when he got a text from the CCPD. He groaned inwardly at the notification. He was starting to think he may never get the chance to sleep again.

As he looked over the text, his mood soured once again. Another victim from the killer was found. This was the fourth in two weeks, giving the killer a total of ten victims. 

Barry once again suited up and headed for the crime scene, stopping in an alley a few blocks away to change again.

Once he made it to the actual scene, an abandoned house near the suburbs, it was already getting fairly dark. He really hated how long League meetings lasted.

There were a couple of cop cars around the building, their lights flashing brightly. As he ducked under the tape line, he showed his badge and was let through.

He entered the building, placing blue plastic gloves over his hands. Barry frowned at the bloody state the room was in. The walls were covered with blood splatters, as if the killer had flicked a paint brush around.

There was a body near the middle of the room. He crouched down to examine the man. His gloves got bloodied as he gently turned the man’s head to see his slit neck. Maybe the killer really did try to paint the walls.

“This is what all the other scenes look like.” Another cop mumbled. Barry nodded. He hadn’t had the chance to get to the scene yet.

“We know any similarities between the victims?” He asked, looking up at the woman.

“Only that they’re all men and blonde.” She said with a shrug. Barry hummed. “Hey, maybe we could use you as bait.” She added with a laugh.

Barry rolled his eyes, but didn’t answer. He looked over the body again, finding nothing else of use, then stood up again.

“You know the drill, search for fingerprints and the like. Check to see if this isn’t just his blood.” He said, pointing to the woman. After receiving a quick nod, he went into another room to a similar sight.

There wasn’t another body, thankfully, but the walls still had multiple blood splatters. Other than that, there wasn’t much evidence of a struggle. All the furniture, though old and currently covered in blood, seemed to be in place.

So far all they knew about the killer’s M.O. was that they went blonde guys (Maybe he should use himself as bait…), and they liked to make a mess of things, though they killed their victims quickly.

All the bodies he had analyzed looked fairly healthy, only a few bruises indicating any injury at all, though one had a broken nose. The only injury that was constant in each victim was the slit neck and practically being drained of blood.

He stood in the middle of the room, turning to take in as much as possible. There wasn’t a pattern in the blood, just random splotches here and there. This just felt like another dead end.

Barry let out a rough sigh, shaking his head in frustration. He then left the room and headed out of the house.

“I’ll take a look at all of the evidence at home, hopefully I’ll have something next time you see me,” he told the other officer. “Send me any pictures taken.” He added. She nodded, muttering a quick good luck.

He stalked off back towards his home, walking a couple blocks before speeding away. This time, when he reached home, he didn’t bother sparing a second to debate sleeping.

He was out in seconds.

Hal kept on shooting glances at the empty seat next to him. Barry should have been here already, even if he had a habit of being late to everything. 

He would still always call or text Hal to let him know, yet his phone was devoid of any notifications from the speedster. He checked again anyway, just to be sure.

What’s worse, Barry had barely talked to him after the last league meeting. He had just zoned out the entire time, then left immediately. Hal was going to offer dinner (though Barry probably would’ve ended up paying anyway), but didn’t get the chance.

He wasn’t really sure if he was actually worried or not. Like he said, Barry was always late. He was honestly mainly annoyed that Barry hadn’t bothered to let him know. It felt like he was ghosting him, even though he knew Barry could never be that petty to do to anyone . It’s not like anything happened between them anyway.

If Barry was at the meeting or not, Bruce still started. Hal was almost jealous of Barry when the bat started to piss him off. He bet Bruce regretted not waiting for the speedster after that argument.

Once it was finally over, Hal decided he might as well go full Barry in on what he missed. He flew towards the man’s house, landing in an alley not too far away. He couldn’t count the amount of times Barry scolded him for flying right up to his door in full costume.

Once he made it to the door, he knocked and waited for an answer. After about three seconds, because Barry barely takes over one to answer the door, he knocked again. Half a minute, no answer.

Okay, maybe he was getting a little worried. The lantern got out his spare key and stuck it into the keyhole, only to find that the door was unlocked. Shit, he was definitely worried now.

“Hey ‘Bar?” He called through the house. He walked through the lifeless house, stopping in each room the search for the blonde. He frowned as the only sign of life that he spotted was the ruffled sheets of his bed. He hadn’t even made his bed, what the hell was going on!?

Hey, where are you? He sent a quick text, hoping that he’d see it. Then he added, I’m at your place, how’s a movie night sound? Just in case. He knew it’d be awkward to just go out and say he was worried about where he was just for missing one meeting.

When it was well past a minute and he was still left on delivered, his frown deepened. He walked over to the couch and plopped down with a rough sigh.

He was probably just busy with work stuff. He had mentioned something about a serial killer giving the CCPD trouble. Of course they would get their best guy to work overtime because of it. He was just making this out to be bigger than it is.

He could just wait here for an answer. He knew Barry wouldn’t really mind anyway if he stuck around for a minute or two. Maybe he should order some food for when Barry got back.

Purely because he was bored and felt fidgety, he checked his phone again. Still no answer. He sighed again, then thought he might as well check the news. Maybe he wasn’t at the CCPD and was taking care of one of his rogues.

He turned in the TV, then threw the remote to the side and leaned back. The reporter was in the middle of talking about the newest missing persons case. Barry had mentioned a few of those had been popping up.

He almost choked on his own spit when the picture of said newest person appeared on the screen. He stared for several seconds at the image of a blonde man with blue eyes and the best smile in the universe. And then he stared down at the bright red, bold letters under the image screaming MISSING . Then he looked down at the name below them.

Barry Allen .

Hal didn’t think he’d ever flown as fast as he finally made it back to the watchtower. Who knows, maybe he would’ve actually beat Barry there if they were racing. His chest ached with the thought.

Barry was missing, as Barry Allen . He wasn’t the Flash when he went missing, he was just Barry. And if he hadn’t already escaped in the fucking week he’s been missing, that meant he couldn’t use his powers.

A week. Hal could hardly believe it. How could he have not noticed that for an entire week his best friend was gone? How did he not notice the lack of the Flash stopping crime or running around the country each day for a morning jog?

The lantern ran through the halls of the watchtower, almost barreling into Shazam on his way to the monitor room.

Spooky was sitting in the chair in front of several screens. Thank god he actually listened during the meeting to know that Bruce was on monitor duty today, he really didn’t want to waste time going all the way to Gotham.

“Bruce!” He called, running up to him, “we’ve got a really big problem.” He said urgently.

Bruce frowned at him and turned away from the monitors.

“What’s going on?” He asked, thankfully not wasting time being annoyed. No matter how much Spooky might piss him off sometimes, Hal was glad for his straight to business behavior.

“Barry’s missing- like, missing missing.” He explained. Hal pushed Bruce out of the way and took over the keyboard of the monitor. He pulled up the news in Central.

The anchor had long since moved on to another topic, but Barry’s picture with those damning letters under it was still in the corner. He clenched his fists at seeing it again.

“I’ll notify the league.” Bruce said, sounding strained. Hal glanced at him, and the bat’s ever present frown seemed to have much more concern and worry than the usual annoyance.

“I’ll fly over Central. My ring might be able to find him if it locks onto his Speedforce thingy.” Hal said quickly.

“How long has he been missing?” Bruce asked as he typed away on the keyboard. A few messages went out to the rest of the league giving them the rundown.

“News said a week.” Hal answered. He was practically bounced in anticipation to keep moving. But, Batman needed to know all the information if he was gonna be able to find Barry.

“Something must be dampening his powers if he hasn’t escaped yet,” Bruce said, almost to himself. “Or he’s trying not to blow his cover.” He added as several screens popped up with different cameras around Central.

“No, Bar knows how to hide his powers and still use them. He would’ve found a way out.” Hal corrected. Which, wow, he didn’t think he’d actually done that right before. Correcting Batman on something felt like a dream come true.

“I called Iris too,” Hal added, “she hadn’t seen him since before the last league meeting.” He had started to fidget with his hands. God, he felt as restless as Barry during any meeting that could’ve been an email.

He really needed to stop thinking about Barry. It was making him worry more with each passing second.

Batman let out a hum, then pulled up another video camera. Hal blinked at the video feed of cop cars and flashing lights. He shared a glance with Bruce.

Soon enough, Barry showed up to the scene. Hal watched as he ducked under the police tape and showed an officer his badge. Then the blonde went into the old looking building after being pointed towards it.

“What are we looking at?” Hal asked. Bruce held up a hand, causing Hal to roll his eyes. The camera switched seconds later to inside the building.

Barry was just walking in, putting sterile gloves on after he shut the door behind him. Hal scrunched up his nose to the bloody sight of the room. There was a body in the middle, looking incredibly pale.

They watched as Barry did the usual looking over of the body, then handed him off to another officer. He went into another room.

“There aren’t any cameras in there.” Bruce supplied after a few seconds of him typing away. Hal grumbled something unintelligible at that. 

Though, it didn’t matter much, as Barry walked out a moment later. He was shaking his head with a worried expression.

The speedster walked over to the other officer, said something to her, then patted her on the shoulder. Afterwards, he left the building. Bruce switched back to the outside cameras and they watched as he left the scene.

“That was his last known whereabouts.” Bruce stated. Hal felt his fingernails dig into the palm of his hand, leaving little crescent indents in the skin. 

“I’ll check it out.” Hal offered with little hesitation. Bruce nodded and continued flipping through cameras around Central.

Hal rushed off back down to the city, hoping this time he’d at least find a lead.

Barry’s vision was blurry and unfocused. He felt insanely tired, and even more hungry. He wasn’t sure when the last time he ate was.

He was tied to an old, rickety chair. The ropes dug into his skin and left little burns there. He let out a quiet breath as he once again tried to strain the rope and possibly loosen it.

There was an IV sticking into his arm, constantly supplying him with some sort of drug that messed up his speed. He couldn’t vibrate to get loose and he couldn’t run away even if he did.

There were several cuts and bruises on his face. A large purple bruise had formed around his ribs after being kicked multiple times by his kidnapper.

The room itself he was trapped in looked like an old basement. The floor was concrete with several stains, some of which were disturbingly red. There were wooden steps leading up to a deteriorating door.

If he wasn’t so worried about his own wellbeing, he’d be really embarrassed. To be captured by the serial killer you’ve been trying to catch is some embarrassing stuff. Hal would get a kick out of it.

He hoped Hal had at least realized he was missing. Maybe it would be on the news by now. Wally was probably worried sick.

Barry flinched as the door to his little cellar opened. The wooden steps creaked as someone came down. He kept his head down, trying to pretend to still be unconscious.

Several times his captor had come down, purely to torture him. He hadn’t done this with any of his other victims. Barry got the sense that he was trying to send a message to the CCPD when they found Barry.

His captor approached the chair Barry was tied to. The blonde looked up through his lashes to see that the man was holding a metal pipe. Why did they always have blunt objects?

He nudged Barry’s foot, then, when the speedster didn’t react, he kicked him in the shins. Barry let out a gasp as pain flared up in his leg.

His captor, a man with a painted hockey mask and wearing all black aside from that, grabbed the roots of Barry’s hair. He held up his head and forced Barry to look in the eyes of his mask.

Barry looked wide-eyed at his captor, glancing down to the metal pipe. The masked man gripped his hair tighter and tugged. Barry let out a small groan. He was too tired to try and silence it.

“You gonna talk?” He asked in a gruff and muffled voice. Barry still wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but he wouldn’t say a damn thing either way.

He sneered at the man, fixing him with a glare that might actually rival Batman’s. In retaliation the man pushes Barry’s head back into the chair. There was a small thud when it connected 

Before he had the chance to recover, the metal pipe was swung agaisnt his nose, making a loud crack. He gasped as blood gushed down his face and over his shirt. Some got in his mouth and he gagged at the taste.

As his head started to lull, the man pushed him back against the chair again.

“Shit-headed meta,” the man said like a curse, “Fuckin’ say something!” Barry only stared at him.

The man let out a frustrated growl, then reared back. Barry clenched his eyes shut as he prepared for another blow. It hit his stomach and crunomed as spittle flew from his mouth. He coughed and gasped as he tried to breath.

When he felt like he could finally breathe again, the man had left. He warily looked around the room, but found nothing.

Barry let himself fall limp. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. He wanted his injuries to heal already.

He hoped someone had figured out he was in trouble.

Hal’s ring lit up the dark building. The cleanup crew had taken care of all the blood pretty decently, but he hoped his ring would pick up something that might help.

This was their only lead. He had called Wally and Iris and neither had seen Barry since he was labeled missing. Neither had any of his coworkers, both from the CCPD and the League.

The little search light of his ring lit up the area where the body was found. It made an outline like the ones in the movies. Hal had to force himself to not think of Barry being stuck like that.

He turned away and went into the other room Barry had. There were a lot of places that the clean up crew missed in this room. Various splotches were left in random places. They all belonged to the victim, there was nothing that could be the killer.

He could hardly believe that Barry fell victim to a serial killer. He must have been in a really shitty situation if he hadn’t found a way to escape.

Hal shook his head with a sigh. His brow was furrowed in worry. He placed a finger to his communicator in his ear, contacting Bruce.

“Hey spooky, you find anything else?” Hal asked. He would never admit out loud, but Bruce was probably the best detective in the world. If anyone would be able to get a lead, it’d be him.

Maybe. He responded after a moment. He sounded hesitant, like he didn’t have much hope on whatever he found. It’s a stretch, but can you scan the door knob? Look for any sign of drugs. He said. Hal guessed the man was watching him in cameras, so he nodded.

Hal went back into the first room and pointed his ring at the door knob on the outside. There were light green outlines that appeared like a black light looking for fingerprints.

“Found something.” Hal informed Batman. “You think he was drugged?” He asked, though he thought he already knew the answer.

He hadn’t put on the gloves until after he entered the room, the door knob was laced with something. It must have taken a bit of time to affect him. Bruce explained. Hal nodded with a hum.

“I’ll search for any other traces of it in the city.” He declared, bringing his ring up to ask about it.

It gave a couple of different locations. He frowned again. It might take too long to search all of them, he’d already wasted too much time already.

“I’ve got a lot of different locations, I’m gonna need help to search them all.” He said. There was a quick affirmative from Bruce.

Hal let out another sigh, then left the building. The killer would probably be keeping Barry somewhere in the suburbs, like all the other victims. He checked his ring again, then flew off in the direction it told him.

It was getting dark now. Soon it would be another full day that Barry’s been missing.

The chair Barry was still tied to was knocked over. His head hit the floor with a loud thud. He let out a small gasp.

The IV had been ripped from his arm on accident, and blood flowed from the wound and pooled on the floor.

The man let out a sharp curse. He then made a frustrated noise and kicked Barry in his side again. He let out a pained wheeze at the blow.

Even if he wasn’t being given a constant supply of the drug, it would still take way too long for it to wear off. He was still utterly defenseless.

Barry coughed several times, droplets of blood being splattered on the floor.

Then he was kicked again, this time in the face. His already broken nose flared up in pain. He let out a yelp as he tried to wrench his hands towards his face.

The ropes holding them in place dug into his wrists. He let out another gasp as he looked up at the masked man looming over him. A metal object was shining in his hand.

Barry stared up at the scalpel glinting in the dim lighting. He sneered at the man as best he could with a broken nose and bloodied teeth.

The man grabbed the roots of his hair and pulled him up. Barry scrunched up his nose and breathed hard. He tried throwing his best bat-glare at the man.

“You’re really fucking annoyin’, y’know?” The man sneered. Barry let out a huff.

“N-next time I’ll try to be nicer to my k-kidnapper.” He spat out in response, along with the glob of blood aimed at the man’s shirt.

He was thrown back again, his head hitting the chair for what felt like the millionth time. Then the man slapped his cheek and a stinging feeling creeped its way into joining the rest of the collection of pain.

“I’mma cut you up and paint the walls!” The man threatened, brandishing the scalpel and putting it dangerously close to Barry’s cheek. Honestly, Barry thought he might just want to get it over with.

The man cut the ropes tying him to the chair, cutting his wrists and ankles in the process as Barry tried to suppress a hiss of pain. He then grabbed Barry by the neck and lifted him up off of the chair.

Barry’s hands immediately clutched and clawed at the man’s wrists, leaving droplets of blood on him.

He could just barely see his eyes now. They looked crazed and gleeful. He wanted to gag.

The man squeezed his throat. Barry tried to suck in a breath, but it was blocked. He sputtered and gasped.

The speedster looked around wildly, trying to find something that could help him. He tried kicking the man’s shins but it did little to nothing.

He was tired and hungry. He was working on little to no fuel and his speed was still dampened.

Tears pooled in Barry’s eyes. He blinked them away and again tried to glare at the man.

There was an amused huff, as if the man thought it absurd that Barry was even trying. He gave one more squeeze on Barry’s throat, eliciting a wheeze from the blonde, then threw him against the wall.

Barry crumpled to the ground, his shaky legs refusing to support his weight despite how much he needed them to. He clenched his fists, scraping his fingernails against the concrete floor as he fought to push himself back up.

The man put his foot on Barry’s back, forcing him back down. He groaned as it disturbed his bruised ribs.

Barry looked back up at the man, only to be met with another kick to the face.

He let out a grunt, then fell limp. He blinked slowly, looking at the man out of the corner of his eye. He strained again, one last effort to get up, but his body slammed back into the ground.

He squeezed his eyes closed, expecting them to never open again. 

There were hands on him. They felt cold but gentle. They glided over his body and prodded around. He let out a whimper when they pressed into his side.

A hand moved to his face, gently cupping his cheek. He was pulled close to someone’s chest and held there.

“Hey, ‘Bar,” someone said, making him jump. “It’s gonna be okay.” They continued. They sounded a little panicked, but relieved.

Barry scrunched up his nose and tried to open his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could make a familiar figure glowing with a soothing green light.

“Hey-“ Hal said, but it broke off into a small sob. “Hey.” He repeated. A small smile graced his lips then.

Barry opened his mouth to say something, but it only ended in a small coughing fit. Hal pulled him closer protectively. Barry’s head was pressed against his chest.

“Hey.” Barry rasped out. Hal moved the hand cupping his cheek to run through his hair. Barry leaned into the touch gratefully.

“I’m gonna get you to the tower.” Hal promised, moving his other arm underneath Barry’s knees.

He picked him up, holding him in an iron grip that somehow still felt soft. Barry felt himself be lifted from the ground, then after a few moments wind rushed through his hair.

He looked blearily up at Hal again. His jaw was set firmly, quivering occasionally. Hal was crying.

Barry had been asleep for several hours now. After Hal had rushed him over to the watchtower, they had to get him into the medbay. Apparently he had several broken bones, including his nose, which had been hit multiple times according to J’onn.

The speedster had been given a constant supply of the same drug that had taken him out in the first place. It was messing with his powers, but didn’t do a thing about his metabolism.

Hal feel Barry’s ribs when he had been holding before. The blonde’s cheeks had been sunken and bloody. The circles under his eyes had been several shades darker than usual.

Hal had almost killed the man that took him. If Bruce hadn’t met him there, he probably would have. Damn him and his no kill rule, if there should be any exception it should’ve been for him.

But no, now the psycho was in a cell in Central. His only consolation was that the CCPD took it a lot more personally since Barry was a victim.

Even so, he would rather take the fucker all the way to the cells on Oa than let him be anywhere near Barry. It felt like a stretch just letting him be on the same planet, let alone city, as Bar’.

Hal let out a huff as he stared into the viewing window into the med-bay. J’onn was still in there, tapping away on some document as he did a few final checks.

He had already come out and inform everyone that Barry was stable. Ollie had clasped him on the shoulder then and given him the most reassuring smile he could offer Hal.

Despite everything pointing to a full recovery in the works, Hal refused to let his eyes stray from Barry’s unconscious form. He only never looked away to glance at the heart monitor or to blink.

He perked up as J’onn entered the room again. His face was set in the ever present frown that probably only Spooky could read. It wasn’t really reassuring at the moment.

“He will be alright.” J’onn reassured with a soft nod. “There is nothing else to be done but wait.” He declared. Hal nodded silently as J’onn passed him.

Once the Martian left the room, he wasted no time in moving Barry’s bedside. He grabbed a chair and rolled it over to the bed. The lantern practically collapsed in it.

Now that he was actually in the room with all of the medical equipment, he could hear the steady beeping of the heart monitor mimicking Barry’s heart. He glanced over to it, watching the green line rise and fall in a pattern.

He turned back towards the speedster. The blood had been cleaned off his face, and his broken nose had been set. None of the bruises had healed yet, though. He imagined that if he took off the bandage covering Barry’s stomach and chest, he would see one nasty bruise.

Instead, he pulled the thin covers over Barry, lifting up his hand so he wouldn’t disturb the IV.

He looked pale, and those dark circles were still there. His brow was furrowed, as if he were having a nightmare. Hal would’ve been surprised if he wasn’t, though.

“Hey, Bar’?” He whispered, leaning close to the speedster. He placed a hand on his forehead, rubbing his thumb over Barry’s brow.

Barry let out a small sound. It didn’t sound very distressed, so Hal thought he must have been doing a decent enough job.

The blonde leaned into Hal’s hand. His facial features relaxed. Hal felt himself sag as his mission was accomplished.

Hal rested his head on the side of the bed, his arms crossed. He looked at the little bruises and cuts on Barry’s face with a frown that looked more like a pout.

Even after being beat up and almost killed, Hal couldn’t deny how beautiful Barry still seemed. He hated imagining how scared he looked when Hal first found him. No one deserved to go through something like that, especially not him.

Hal moved his hand to intertwine with Barry’s. He held it tightly, like a lifeline. It was weird, he was the one desperate to feel Barry’s warmth, and yet Barry was the one who was almost on his deathbed.

He squeezed the blonde’s hand. He thought he could feel the slightest twitch of Barry’s fingers in response, but didn’t dare to hope.

He knew he would be okay, he knew , but he had to see it. He had to see Barry open his eyes again and smile at him like he was looking upon an angel. Even though, between the two, Barry was the saint.

Barry stared up at the white ceiling of the medbay. He had seen it enough times to know where he was without needing to overlook the whole room. Which was good, because he thought that even just turning his head would make him pass out.

He felt exhausted and hungry, like he had just run a couple hundred laps around the earth. Everything felt sore, and didn’t think he even had the strength to twitch his fingers.

Nevertheless, he tried anyway. He clenched his hands into fists as he fought to sit up.

Barry flinched when another hand squeezed his. He quickly turned his head, eliciting a wave of nausea and dizziness. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and scrunched up his eyes. 

“Easy, Bar’.” A voice that Barry would always recognize soothed. Barry squeezed his hand again as he lazily turned to look at him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice scratchy. He smiled at Hal as brightly as he could. He didn’t doubt that he looked horrible though.

“I was really worried.” Hal admitted, frowning as he sat up. His hand stayed in its place though, and Barry couldn’t complain about that.

“You? Worried?” Barry teased, “Am I in the wrong timeline?” He said with a light laugh that devolved into a few rough coughs.

“Oh, shut up.” Hal shot back with an eye roll. He held a glass of water up to Barry’s lips and the blonde grandly took the offering.

“So what all happened?” Barry asked, “I was kind of asleep for a bit.” He said lightly, though he knew it would reach his eyes.

Hal let out a rough sigh as his face fell. His shoulders sagged and he pushed his face onto the bed again.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Barry fidgeted with a frayed end of the cover and waited patiently. At some point he moved his free hand to run through Hal’s hair.

“I guess we’ve both had a pretty bad day, huh?” Barry said, just to fill the silence with something more bearable.

Hal moved his hand to clutch onto Barry’s as the blonde messed with Hal’s hair.

“Pretty bad week.” Hal muttered in response. 

Barry’s eyes widened. He let out a rough and shook his head. He hadn’t thought he’d been gone for an entire week. How was he supposed to explain to anyone what happened and why the Justice League of all people came to save him.

“Shit.” Barry grumbled, sinked against the pillow. Hal let out an amused huff. He turned his head to face Barry again.

He smiled beautifully at the blonde, but it wasn’t as joyous or mischievous as his usual smiles.

He seemed to realize that his attempt at a grin failed miserably, and his features sobered. Barry returned his frown with a creased brow and concerned gaze.

“I thought you were dead, when I finally found you.” He admitted, closing his eyes mournfully. 

Barry looked down again at the frayed covers. He could never say it out loud, lest he wanted to break down sobbing as all the pressure came crashing down, but he thought he would be dead too. How ironic would that be? Some guy killed the great Flash when alien invasions and super villains failed relentlessly.

“You were so still , and the guy was standing above you. Both of you were covered in blood.” The Lantern continued. His voice shook as he spoke. Then the two relapsed into silence again.

Barry watched as a multitude of different expressions traveled across Hal’s face. It looked like he was fighting a war inside his head.

“I almost killed him, Bar’.” Hal admitted. He refused to meet Barry’s eyes. The blonde frowned.

“If Bruce hadn’t been there, that guy would be long dead.” His shoulders slumped at the admission. Barry studied Hal’s face, they way that his lip quivered and his eyes seemed glassy.

Barry placed a hand on Hal’s shoulder. He squeezed it gently to get his attention. The Lantern reluctantly looked up at him, misery painting his face.

“But he’s not dead,” Barry said once he was sure he had Hal’s attention, “And I’m right here.” He smiled fondly at the brunette.

Hal gave a reluctant smile in return. Barry moved his hand to cup the other man’s cheek. Hal leaned into the touch as Barry rubbed his thumb in small, soothing circles.

“We’re gonna be okay.” Barry promised.

“Yeah,” Hal agreed softly. 

End Notes: I kind of have a love hate relationship with this fic... it's my first ever halbarry fic, so I'm not too happy with how it turned out, but ik I just need to get used to their characters. until then, mindless whump and suffering!!! there's never enough whump :/ anyways, I'd love to see any comments, and I hope you have a lovely day <3

@itemreceived :)

[gwenpooleofish]

Hey true believers! Before this post gets to the good stuff, mun wanted me to let you guys know the format for this is going to be different from posts before this. Quotes will be used for my dialogue and there will be no asterisks on my actions. Basically it's novel format. Also it's in third person. Got it? Cool.

Gwen skips energetically down a street, suited up, mask over her face. Swords are holstered on her back and her guns are conveniently tucked away in their holsters and gutter space, so the artists didn't have to draw their complexity. She doubts she'll need to use them, the job is just to retrieve some specimens an asshole scientist had taken as retribution for being fired, but their presence will at least make it known that she's serious. The job is apparently important, not important enough for a C-lister or the cops but important enough for someone to have put it in Ronnie's job database.

When she gets to the address, it looks no different from the others on the block. Not a lazy choice from the artists, just a reflection of American suburbia. Gwen knocks on the door, rings the bell multiple times and knocks again before waiting to hear activity in the house.

Gwen hops into gutter space to retrieve two SMGs as she waits for a response but rather than sliding back into the Tumblr post, she stops.

On the stark white horizon, she can see the posts taper out into an end. She stumbles back, dropping the guns, taking in short breaths, almost tripping over her feet. It's just like the end of her first comic. But in her first comic she could see herself in incoming fanart, fanfiction, West Coast Avengers. Their details beyond her vision but still there, a confirmation she'd continue on. Now, she looks back at how her appearances have been tapering off into just merchandise, and then forward into a white abyss.

She turns, running into the past, encountering other Gwens on the path. Her eyes see solid ground, but her foot falls through the words below her and she is quickly finding herself falling into the horizon above a parade. Before she plummets, she slams her hands down in front of her, finding a border she can catch herself on.

"No no no no no I can't die like this please please don't let me die like this please!" She yells into the skyline as another her is sat on the edge of a building, looking furious. Skyline-Gwen scrambles at the boarder, grabbing and scratching at the screen-like texture of gutter space desperately.

The efforts only exhaust her, every scrape at the edge of the invisible portal above her serving just to keep her dangling.

She breaths deep as she stops struggling. "Ok. No. No way are you dying like this, Gwen. It's not narratively satisfying, it starts with a half-assed introduction and no one is even here to witness and be impacted by my death. I might be dying, but it's not here."

Planting her hands flat on the screen textured surface above her, Gwen gains a new rush of passion to survive. She moves one hand over until her arms are spread wide, then presses down with them as hard as she can. Gasping out a breath when she sees the familiar white void, driving her head forward above text.

She hooks her chin onto the surface immediately, then pushing her hands back to get her torso over onto the flat ground. Eventually heaving her entire body back into gutter space.

She rolls herself onto her back, chest rising and falling with great effort, and covers her eyes with her hands. Gwen's eyes form tears even as she attempts to push them back into her eyes.

Though time outside of gutter space doesn't pass, Gwen knows she stays there for a long time. Waiting until her breath steadies and the adrenaline stops making her feel like she'll die of a heart attack to go back to the present.

[durrtydawg]

A Taste of your Own

{Sam Drake x F!Reader PWP🔞}

Sam's had his fun with you, and earned thousands from screwing you over. Absolutely ravenous to see him humbled, you've devised a plan to get your own back. You could've been the bigger person and let it all go, but it's much more fun to give him a taste of his own medicine. Right?

PLEASE READ THIS VERSION INSTEAD. IT'S GOT A MUCH BETTER ENDING, AND I SHOULD'VE UPLOADED IT FIRST!

(This is your final warning for dubcon and general depravity- head on over to ao3 for more detailed tags- also, it's very long and plotty, so once more, I implore you to read 'Best Served Cold' to jog your memory on previous events that have occurred in this silly little timeline. TY <333)

((Also love and hugs to @bluewingedangel for moral support and listening to my rants, and @lilsnatch ​ for the girl boss encouragement and for providing me with the funniest line in this godforsaken thing. Ily)) 

Word Count: It’s a long old boyo- 11.5k 🥴

“Got a light?"

 Sam takes a long, slow drag, eyes trailing down the length of a tight-fitting emerald dress, then up to the unfamiliar, intricately made-up eyes staring up at him.

 Exhaling smoke, he fishes his hand into his inside pocket. "For you?” He flicks open his lighter and extends it forwards, smiling. “Sure."

 She thanks him, and he watches her face glow orange as her lips envelop her cigarette in the corner of his eye. He smirks to himself.

 Luck is truly on his side tonight; with his recent find landing him an invitation to a renowned antiquities gala, he’d already spent most of the evening scoring potential contracts with an array of fat-pocketed antiques snobs, too lazy to find their own treasure. Now he’s being approached by a late-twenty-something you’d usually only see in a morally dubious magazine.

 Did he deserve such a fruitful evening? Well, yes, he told himself.

 Sure, he wouldn’t have gotten to where he is now without figuratively (and literally) fucking over his ex for the amulet that revealed the treasure’s location…but you started it.

 Right?

 "So,” The woman starts as Sam snaps out of his trance to watch the smoke billow from her mouth. She turns, leaning sideways against the balcony.

 "So." He mirrors her, intrigued as he drags on his cigarette.

 Her eyes give him a once-over. "The infamous Samuel Drake, right. Talk of the town.” She glances over her shoulder into the prestigious function room inside, then turns back with a demure smile. “Better looking than I thought."

 "Oh yeah?" he laughs, exhaling smoke. "You're not too bad yourself."

 She looks at him for a moment, assessing, almost. “Impressive find, I’ve got to say. Hundreds of people were after that amulet…what’s your secret?”

  Foul play? Deceit? Sexual coercion?

 Nobody needs to know all that, so, he taps his nose. She nods, a hint of a smirk on her lips before she takes a drag.

 Sam's intrigued, and undoubtedly attracted to her. He's almost driven to ask her what her deal is until she speaks again.

 "So why are you out here all alone? Finally had enough of all the attention?" She smirks.

 He smiles briefly, shaking his head, looking back out at the landscape in front of him. He’ll never get enough of the attention.

 "Just needed a moment to myself. Reflecting, I suppose." He waves his cigarette in front of him, flicking a bit of ash over the balcony.

 She smiles wistfully, toying with her necklace. "Shame."

 "Hm?" He questions, taking another puff.

 "I know it’s quite forward…” She begins, timidly. Sam turns to her fully, an inquisitive simper on his face.

 “I was going to see if you'd be up for a…different kind of attention. But if you'd rather be alone..." She stubs out her cigarette on the balcony and throws it over the edge.

 Sam coughs as he exhales, eyes following her falling cigarette as they widen slightly. She grabs the lapels of his suit jacket, pretending to straighten them out, regaining his full attention as he tries to appear unfazed.

 "I can just leave."

 His eyes flicker between hers and her hands on his jacket.

 "Not even gonna buy me a drink first, huh?" Sam jokes, unsure of her severity.

 She smooths her hands down his front with a shrug, before clasping her hands behind her back.

 "Sure."

 He straightens his posture, smirk reinstating itself. "You're...serious, aren't you?"

 "What's your poison?" She simply replies, plucking the cigarette from his hand. She takes a drag before stumping it out whilst Sam shakes his head in amusement.

 Still got it, he thinks. Scrap that. He knows.

 He takes a quick glance between the bustling interior of the function hall, and the stunning stranger in front of him.

 Fuck it, he also thinks.

 "Surprise me, sweetheart."

 *

 For the first time in ages, you’re willingly in the same building as Sam.

 He looks, admittedly, as attractive as ever...honestly, it's unfortunate that the corporate nine-to-five lifestyle wasn't something he'd ever fit into. Seeing him in a suit is always a sight for sore eyes.

 It's a shame he doesn't know you're here. He'd lap up such a compliment.

 Focus.

 Upon further inspection, you notice a beautiful young woman slowly approach your ex as he- surprise, sur-fucking-prise- smokes over the balcony. She gets his attention, and he extends his lighter with a smirk. You shift in your seat.

 That one-dimensional, irritating- no, infuriating smirk sets off a cacophony of emotions within you. Annoyingly conflicting emotions. Again. For fuck’s sake.

 Inhaling, you refuse to give in to being irritated, and instead admire the ornate chandelier above you as you take a seat at the function room’s bar. Once you get the disinterested waiter’s attention, you order the easiest red wine to pronounce- it'll match your dress. A killer dress, might I add.

 You look stunning; fashionable hair, extra weight in all the right places, a little more makeup than usual. Self-esteem has taken a huge leap forward for you since you last saw him, and in turn, you're almost unrecognisable.

 You thank the waiter as he slides you your wine glass, and at the same time internally thank whatever higher power there may be for the invention of the free bar as you swivel back around to overlook the bustling room, making sure to strategically cover the lump in your dress around your thigh with your bag. More on that later.

 You swirl your wine around its glass, watching as the woman runs her hands up his blazer, your nails impatiently tapping.

 After a moment, she turns and begins to walk back into the hall. You watch Sam grin to himself, shaking his head and cracking his knuckles as he turns back out to the vineyard. You take a gulp of your wine, letting it sit in your mouth for a moment, trying not to wince. It’s bitter. So are you.

 You turn back to the bar as the woman approaches and leans beside you, waving the waiter over.

 “You were right.”

 You don’t look at her as she speaks, nor she you, but you bite back a grin as you swallow your wine, relieved.

 “It really didn’t take much at all.” She laughs before ordering two neat bourbons.

 You take another quick sip. “Told you it’d be easy. Can’t keep it in his pants.” She laughs at your comment.

 You can officially tick ‘befriending an escort’ off your bucket list.

 Ah yes. A recap.

 Sam's inability to ‘keep it in his pants’ acted as fuel for your initial fire towards him, and of course, a few months ago, that same inability led to you leaving an old manor house empty-handed, in what is perhaps the most humiliated (and sticky) state you have ever been.

 After some time to recoup, it dawned on you that it's time for Sam's hamartia to really hit him where it hurts.

 Hiring an escort was...interesting, but an efficient way to get what you want. Going through the nuances of your plan with said escort after being promised a hefty discount for doing so was even more interesting.

 But hey, it got the job done.

 “He’s good looking.” You scoff as she says this. You agree, of course, but you can’t give in to that just yet. “Shame about the personality, though.”

 You nod, downing the rest of your wine. “How long?”

 “Hmm…give us half an hour. Text me when you’re nearby.” The waiter pushes two crystal tumblers towards her. She picks them up and turns to leave. Before she walks away, she smiles at you.

 “We’ve got him right where you want him, honey.” She winks, and you crack a smile as she walks away.

 She’s right. You’ve got him exactly where you want him, and you couldn’t be more excited.

 *

 Ending up in some girl’s hotel room on the brink of what he hopes is going to be a one-night stand wasn’t on Sam’s list of expectations for the day. Hope of a one-night stand, of course, because his commitment issues have been through the roof since you.

 That relationship began with what he thought would’ve been a one-night stand, too.

 He’d never wanted a long-term relationship until you came along, and he nearly hated the fact that he was the cause of its end.

 What? No, that’s bullshit! Sure, he messed up. No excuse for you to threaten to kill him, steal all the notes you’d both made on your treasure trail, and fuck off, almost without a trace.

 Anyway, why on earth was he thinking about you whilst he had his tongue down the throat of a total ten inside a swanky hotel room, without having done any of the hard work himself?

  Don’t be a clown, Samuel. Enjoy the moment.

 The ‘ten’ pulls away, breathless. She bites her lip with a smile, tracing Sam’s stubbled jawline with her thumb.

 He sees cogs turning in her head. Intriguing.

 "I want to tie you up."

 Oh.

 Well, that certainly puts a spanner in the works.

 Sam breathes heavily, hands still at her waist whilst her nails trace over his skin. Her other hand reaches the side table for her bourbon. He stares at her, brows knitted together, somewhat lost for words.

 He’s not into that… Is he into that?

 "You want to…"

 “Tie you up. Yep.” She pops the ‘p’, flashing him a coquettish smile, taking a sip before laying her arms over his shoulders. Sam remains silent, mulling it over in his mind as the half-melted ice clinks in the glass held behind him.

 Plucky.

 Maybe he’s not entirely opposed. It's...different. Not something you would’ve done to him.

 She brings the glass round to him, tilting it encouragingly towards his lips.

 "Oh no." She whispers, tilting the glass further. He takes a sip, frowning a little. "You're not…insecure, are you?"

 Oh. The ‘I’ word. Sam's brow quirks. God no, he’s not insecure. Trust issues? Sure. In abundance, in fact. But he’s not insecure. He swallows.

 He assesses her, catching a glimpse of a mischievous glint, and he knows she's just having him on.

 "All right." He smirks, hand sliding down to her hip, squeezing ever so slightly as she places her empty glass down, “But not the whole time.”

 “Not the whole time.” she repeats with a slow nod, fingers entangling themselves in his hair.

 Tie already undone, he single-handedly unbuttons his collar, making a start on the top third of his shirt buttons as he gently guides her onto the edge of the vanity with his other hand on her waist. She smiles into his mouth, letting go of his hair to push back impishly, wheedling a smirk from Sam as he rolls with it, allowing her to guide him backwards until the back of his thigh collides with something.

 He forces his lips away from hers for a moment to kick the chair he’s just bumped into out of his way, but she drags him back round by the chin to look at her. He raises an inquisitive brow, slightly breathless.

 “Sit.” She utters, hands moving to his chest. Sam glances back at the chair. It’s one of those fancy ones with glossy, carved spindles and upholstered cushioning riveted into the seat. No arms. All the easier for her to sit on top of him. Nice.

 He’s not usually one for being told what to do. But what’s the harm in giving in just once?

 He smirks back at her. “You want me to-oh, okay.” His sentence doesn’t finish as she gently pushes on him, so he has no choice but to sit down. He narrows his eyes up at her in a sort of smirky smoulder that she reciprocates as she walks behind him.

 She pulls at the strip of tie hanging under his collar, snaking it away from him as she nips at the newly exposed birds on his neck.

 He relaxes into the chair as her hands squeeze at his biceps. She eventually grips with an exaggerated tightness, pulling his arms behind him, round the back of the chair. Sam laughs in shock of her strength, and plays along, impressed.

 He holds his own hands in place as she gathers the tie in hers, slowly wrapping it around his wrists as he wriggles in anticipation. She loops it round and through, Sam turning his head to try and watch what she’s doing, but he can’t quite turn enough.

 “So obedient. Must make a change, right?” She provokes, close to the shell of his ear. He goes to reciprocate with some smart remark, but she pulls hard on the tie, harshly pulling his wrists together a lot harder than anticipated, and he winces slightly.

 “Take it easy, gorgeous.” He flexes his hands. She chuckles lightly, making another knot and pulling again. “Jeez-ah, Jesus, are you trying to screw up my circulation or something?” He jokes with slight unease as she yanks the knot tighter.

 A buzz from her bag on the table attracts her attention, and she turns her attention from Sam to look at her phone.

 She types something, phone screen lighting up a smirk on her face. “What are you-”

 “Hold on.”

 Sam leans forwards, lips parted in astonishment at her sudden disengagement from her own idea.

 “Uh…hi?” An unamused laugh from Sam breaks the silence, “I hate to interrupt…but…this is kinda awkward.”

 She finally turns back to him as he glares at her, his expression tentative as she moues at him.

 “Sorry, sweetie,” She drawls, forefinger neatening her smudged lipstick. “Just a little…admin.” She chuckles, waving her phone around before sliding it back into her purse.

 Admin? He straightens his posture. Something’s not right.

 Time to plaster on one of his most charming smiles. “You know what? I…don’t think I’m all that into this, so do you mind…” He turns his head to look towards his bound wrists, “takin’ this off?”

 She twists her mouth in thought, and for a moment, Sam thinks she’s going to say no. Silently fretting, he tries as subtly as he can to pick at the knot, but she’s tied it so fucking tight and complexly that he can barely move his hands around to reach it, let alone figure out how to untie it.

 It’s a goddamn necktie. How has she managed that?

 “Okay.” She pouts, clearly disappointed, yet meanders around to the back of the chair. Sam quietly sighs in relief.

 She stands behind the chair, bending, hands snaking over his shoulders and onto his collar. She squeezes his shoulders a little, before dipping close to his ear.

 “A small word of advice.”

 That’s a significant tonal shift. He frowns in perplexity, turning as much as he can to face her.

 “At least get to know a girl’s name before they get you into such a…compromising position.”

 His frown deepens, concern filtering its way into his bloodstream. “What do you-”

 “For someone as intelligent as you supposedly are, you think an awful lot with your dick.” She offers a complacent grin.

 Her phone buzzes again, magnetising both of their attention. She approaches her bag and picks it up- meanwhile Sam’s frown begins to loosen into one of perturbed realisation.

 “What are you doing?” He pushes, knee rapidly bouncing in apprehension. “Hey!” He shouts, as she turns to approach the door.

 He’s indisputably flustered now, and no matter how hard he tries to yank the tie off his wrists, all he achieves is sore friction on his skin. “Where the fuck are you going?” He glares frantically between the woman and his arms behind him, masking his distress with fury.

 “What-” She blows a kiss towards him before closing the door.

 Shit, shit, shit. What the hell is going on?

 There are a lot of dangerous people at this gala, but who has he pissed off enough to get him alone like this? Who was she with? What in God’s name has he gotten himself into know?

 He doesn’t know anyone here, apart from a few old flames from the treasure-hunting circuit…

 No, no. Escape now, figure it out later.

 Escape. Right. Ugh, if he could just get his thumb under that bump in the knot- shit. Lost it.

 The sound of a beeping key card and a click from the door handle should’ve drawn Sam’s attention, but he’s too concerned with getting himself free.

 “I swear,” He flexes his knuckles before turning back around to look at the door, in hopes that the woman is back to get him out, only to tell him it was just some senseless attempt at foreplay, “if you’re not back here to untie me, I’ll…”

 He trails off, and everything falls into place.

 Collapsing into the chair, he wheezes a laugh, his stare saturated with hostility.

 You.

 “You’ll what?" You sneer slyly, leaning against the door as you lock it, tossing the key card and your purse onto a lavish side table.

 He snickers up to the ceiling; cold, humourless.

 “Well,” It’s tongue-in-cheek, but it’s crystal clear that he’s livid. “Isn’t this just goddamn perfect.” He seethes, eyes narrowed in annoyance as he secures murderous eye contact with you.

 “I know, right! Got ’cha good.” You’re chipper. Thrilled, even. He hates it.

 “The hell is this?" he spits, briefly looking behind him to see if he’s made any progress with the knot. He hasn’t.

 You frown, folding your arms as a smile plays on your lips.

 “Take a guess.”

 Sam’s shoulders flex again; another feeble attempt at loosening the tie. He scowls at you.

 "Enlighten me." he spits through gritted teeth.

 You shrug, nonchalantly inspecting your nails. “Let’s backtrack six months or so-”

 “I was being rhetorical.”

 “I don’t care.” You’re quick to respond, and the sudden stern tone of your voice renders him silent again.

 “After that stunt you pulled in Wales, I was livid, and nothing brought me more joy than the prospect of tracking you down and really hurting you. Ending your life, even.”

 Sam shifts, still struggling. You bite back a grin at his slight display of anxiety. “You are a conniving little-”

 “But,” you cut him off, holding your hands up defensively, “After some time to think, I realised there was some sick part of me that wanted more than that.” His knee bounces, and whilst he snubs the idea of looking at you directly, you can tell by the way his eyes focus on your collarbone that he’s listening. “As much as it pains me to admit it, that’s something we both have in common, isn’t it?”

 He shakes his head, you presume, because he’s in denial of his current position. He squints, genuinely perplexed. “The hell are you talkin’ about?”

 “I guess you did what you did to me because you wanted to prove you were the one in control, right? You could’ve just threatened me, stolen the amulet, and left. But no. You used me- my body, to make you feel good- hell, to make me feel good,” You lean, tilting your head to force him into eye contact, “As I’m sure you recall.”

 His frown deepens, though the anger begins to subside, now joined by confined confusion.

 “This insatiable masochism, let’s call it, is eating away at both of us, and it doesn’t seem to matter how much we hate each other, there’s always going to be a mutual, undermining need that won’t go away.”

 He grunts out a mirthless laugh, tongue grazing against his top teeth as he, again, tries fruitlessly to wrench his wrists free. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it sounds like nonsense to me.” He mumbles. You tut.

 “Thought you were smart, Sam.” Your tongue toys with your molar as you stare at him. “Regardless, I’m gonna let you choose how this is gonna play out.”

 He gives up with the rope, slumping with an angry sigh. “Oh, how kind’a you.”

 You scrunch your face up in a sickly smile before you crouch in front of him.

 “Let’s see if you can get that smart noggin of yours to make a wise choice.” you form a fist, knocking on his temple as if it were a door; he aggressively shunts you off with a grumble. “Option one,” You push the slit in your dress aside, revealing a small pistol you’ve tucked away in a thigh holster.

 It’s left an imprint. Hmm, maybe you’ll get its outline tattooed as a tasteful reminder.

 You look back up at him, clocking the concern in his furrowed brows just before it’s replaced by his deadpan façade. “I blow your brains out, perhaps like I should’ve done what? A year ago?”

 His lip quirks. “You’re hilarious.”

 “Oh, I’m-” You laugh, unceremoniously pulling out the gun, standing again to lean over him. “I’m not joking, Sam.” The barrel is pushed his chin, forcing him to tilt his head back. For a split second, there’s a flash of something in his eyes as his throat bobs against the gun, like his confidence subdued itself. Fleeting, but enough for you to work with.

 “What are you do-”

 “Shush for a sec, please.” You click the safety off, your free hand resting on the back of the chair beside Sam’s shoulder.

 “Unbelievable.” He whispers, eyes closed.

 “Yeah, not a particularly fun evening for either of us. Plus, I’m not exactly dressed for scrubbing your blood out of this extremely pricey looking carpet. Still, it's an option.” His throat bobs up and down. Your tongue instinctively darts out onto your bottom lip.

 “Your alternative?” Sam’s breathing quickens ever so slightly as he mutters a few choice expletives. His eyes dart around the room as he tries to calculate some sort of escape, but you’re confident that such a chance is nigh on impossible. “You let me, pfft, how do I say it… you let me have my way with you. Get…even, let’s say.” You speak with all the nonchalance in the world, and Sam double-takes at you so dramatically that it’s almost comedic.

 “Jesus Christ.” He expresses, hazarding an uneasy glance at you. “You’re not…on something, are ya?”

 “Nothing but the desire to humble you, handsome.” You wink, catching a glimpse of what you think might be an endearing glint in his eyes. That, or he thinks this is all a huge prank.

 Is little miss happy-go-lucky almost beginning to make Sam feel…at ease? If you can keep it up for much longer, you might see yourself slide into more lenient grounds.

 He shakes his head in disbelief to the best of his ability. “Okay, but seriously.” He chuckles to himself. “You’re proposing…that I screw you?”

 Crass. His grin evolves into a smirk. It’s irritating. Goodbye, potential lenience.

 “No. That implies you’re in charge. I’m proposing that I ‘screw’ you.” He closes his eyes and takes a breath as you continue, lowering your air quotes. “It’d be…cathartic for me. I think you owe me that much, huh, Sam?”

 Sam laughs disdainfully through his nose. “I don’t owe you anything, sweetheart.”

 You bite your lower lip, your brief silence rendering Sam cocky. Sigh. Time to put an end to that.

 “I suppose there’s a third option.” You smile, beginning to drag the gun downwards, over his chest until it meets the outer side of his thigh. His eyes begin to follow, but you harshly cup his jaw, forcing him to look up at you. He grits his teeth, looking up at you with contempt and…there it is again, that microscopic hint of admiration.

 “What if…” You can’t help but let a huff of laughter escape you, “What if I took this gun, rammed it right up your ass, and maybe pulled the trigger?” You bite hard on your cheek as you hold back an onslaught of laughter.

 You can’t help it…the abrupt, pure, unadulterated horror on Sam’s face is enough to send anyone spiralling into giggles. Again, impeccable comedic timing on his part, even if it is completely unintentional.

 You take a pinch of metaphorical salt and rub it into his wounded ego. “We never tried pegging, did we? And the silencer in my suitcase is a good six inches or so, so-”

 “Oh my God, you really think you’re going to get away with this, don’t you? Thought it all through, huh? Some goddamn genius you are.” Oh, the venomous, panicked sarcasm.

 You chuckle, patronisingly pinching his cheek. “Ooo, scared?”

 “What?” He snaps, shaking you off. You let it slide- this is all too entertaining. “Of you?” He laughs. “Just insanely aggravated.”

 “Hmm. Aggravated, scared, Comme ci, comme ça.” You beam.

 Sam scoffs again, shaking his head as he flexes his fingers in irritation. Is that his only form of defence? Idiot.

 “There are people all over this damn building. As soon as you-”

 “So, yell. Make a fuss. Call for help. I haven’t gagged you, have I?” You interrupt, crouching in front of him again. Steadying yourself with a hand on his knee, you grin as Sam tilts his head up to the ceiling, grunting in annoyance. You bite your thumbnail in thought for a second, a playful gleam in your eye.

 “Hold on, let’s give it a shot.” You grin mischievously, pointing at the gun, satisfied with your unintentional pun as you skip over to the door. You unlock and open it, holding onto the doorframe as you excitably swing yourself outside, gun on full display. Like you give a fuck.

 “Hey!” You shout, biting your lip, grinning whilst you wait a second. No one. “I’ve got a loaded gun and my horrible ex-boyfriend tied up in here. Anyone want to help him out?!”

 You wait just a few more seconds. Still no one. You tut, turning back to shrug at Sam. “Guess no one gives a shit. Oh well, was worth a go.”

 You re-lock the door and lean against it with a deliberately dramatic sigh. Eyes falling on Sam, you feel your breath hitch slightly at the way his eyes bore into you with an intense hatred, fuelled further by his own mounting indignity. You approach him again, stooping in front of him.

 You’re really riling him up now- the way his face twitches in what you assume is anger is oh-so-satisfying.

 “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not like you’d do it. You’ve got too much pride, haven’t you?” Your hand squeezes his knee, until something slightly further up catches your eye.

 A smirk tugs on your lips. “Unless…maybe pride’s the wrong word.” Your empty hand glides slowly up his thigh, stopping next to the slight newfound strain in the fabric of his trousers.

 “Fuck off.” He hisses, hunching in an attempt at hiding the tent he’s started pitching.

 You gasp mockingly, enjoying his effort to mask his humiliation by glaring straight at you. “Samuel. Is that a stolen amulet you’ve got tucked away there, or are you just happy to see me?”

 He shakes his leg with a huff, getting you to remove your hand. You laugh, pushing yourself up. “Oh my God, see what I mean? You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

 He bristles, unsettled. “So…so, you set me up with a smoking hot girl, get her to come onto me all kinky and tie me to a damn chair, and you’re surprised that I’m hard?” He asks, defensively narrowing his eyes at you.

 You scoff, scrunching up your face in a doubtful expression. “No, no, no, that wasn’t there two minutes ago.” You bite your lip and prepare to tease before you clasp your hand over your mouth with a gasp. “Ohhh, did all that talk about shoving something up your-”

 “I can wholeheartedly assure you that that is not the case.” He brusquely cuts you off, flourishing his sentence with a short-lived, sarcastic smile.

 “Shame.” You pout, but you’re after more. “So, it’s me, then. Humiliating you.” You question, sincerely, searching for an answer in his apathetic expression. But he won’t give you that satisfaction.

 Sam closes his eyes and sighs, trying to push away the twinge of agreement you’d stung him with.

  She can’t keep you here forever. You’ll have your moment.

 “You’re really gonna make me do this, huh?”

 You stare at him for a moment before you snap out of your thoughts and nod, tossing the gun impatiently between your hands.

 "Then…I think you know what ‘option’ I'm gonna go for, don't'ya?"

 You grin, putting the gun’s safety back on.

 "Quick question.” you begin, throwing the pistol onto the bed on the other side of the large room.

 “Fire away.” He replies with sardonic enthusiasm.

 You jeer, unclasping the holster from your thigh, chucking it onto the bed beside the gun. “Do you have any shame?"

 Sam draws in a breath, then sighs up to the ceiling. "A little. Though, probably not the amount you want me to have.” He smiles bitterly, foot tapping with impatience. Or anxiety…Both?

 You tut with mock sympathy. "Oh, don't you worry. We've got all night."

 You get close, smirk fading as your jaw clenches. “Rest assured, when we’re done, you are going to feel that same shame that I felt after you shoved me over that countertop, tied my hands behind my back and fucked me speechless without a say in the matter.”

 Sam initially refuses to look you in the eye, and instead glares towards the floor, jaw clenching and unclenching rapidly.

 “Hmm. Something on your mind, Sammy?” You ask in faux concern. He hates being called that.

 His mouth twitches and he laughs bitterly through his nose as he regains eye contact with you.

 A sudden harsh kick to your leg sends you stumbling backwards slightly, and you grunt in mild pain. You’re fast though, because before Sam can make whatever move he was planning, you stamp hard on his shoe and grab him by the throat.

 “No.” You shake your head slowly.

 “Shit.” He mutters, glaring at you whilst trying to hide a wince. He grunts at the sensation of your nails digging into his skin, holding himself as still as possible.

 You grit your teeth, widening your eyes with warning. "Trying to get me to call you a bad boy, Sam? Bit unoriginal, don’t you think?"

 "I slipped." he lies, attempting to mask his oh-so-evident apprehension with anger as he looks down.

 "Better make sure you don't ‘slip’ again."

 He looks back to the ground like a schoolboy who’s just been given a week’s detention in front of his whole class.

 If you could see his humiliation levels on a thermometer, they’d be reaching a gentle simmer.

 You want to laugh. You don't. Instead, you stare at his lips. Something about that slight pout he does when he's unimpressed is endearing. He gulps against your hand, defeated. What’s he got to lose?

 "So…are you going to get this over with or are you gonna keep running your bitch mou-"

 A searing sting across the face deems Sam silent. Eyes closed; he huffs in surprise as he keeps his head leant to the side.

 Did you just…slap him?

 You laugh in disbelief. “Really?” You mutter, ignoring the sore tingle taking over your palm as you flex your fingers. “Hey. Look at me.”

 You've literally got him tied to a chair, a loaded gun nearby...and he’s still disrespecting you.

 Fuck it.

 “Jesus! Okay!” He hisses as you deliver another smack to the other side of his face. He squirms, anxiously looking at you as you stare at his crotch, newly entertained.

 No, no, shit, not again. His eyes are wide. He begins to panic.

 “Oh!” You can’t help but laugh in delight. That thermometer is fast approaching boiling point. “Is that…another new thing for you?” You offer a deriding glance at his growing erection, gnawing at your lip. “Samuel Drake. Enjoys getting smacked in the face. Who knew.”

 “Screw you.” He retorts quickly, cheeks rosy- though something tells you not only because of the hits.

 “We’ll get to that.” You snicker as he watches you begin to roll your dress up your torso. You pull the fabric over your chest, and he can’t help but fixate on your bra for a second, observing you in a trance-like state, your actions catching him off-guard.

 Fuck, she’s still gorgeous, he thinks, much to his own chagrin. Smells good, too. Sweet. Like caramel, he notes as you climb onto the chair, placing your legs over Sam’s spread ones.

 Ugh what? No, he loathes you. And now, shit, you’re on top of him- in your underwear- and he can’t pull his stare away from the way the warm lamp light flows over your soft curves and casts highlights in your hair, and God, he’s transfixed by that caramel scent.

 You'd always reminded him of the stuff. Not the ooey, gooey, pretty, golden type, but the hard, chewy type that hurts the roof of your mouth and gets stuck in your teeth.

 Like said caramel, you've also caused him irreparable damage over a long period of time, but there’s something so addictive about you that Sam couldn't ever put his finger on.

 He hates you but, God help him, you’re right about that ‘insatiable masochism’; you're stuck in his fucking teeth and he’s really struggling to shift his craving for more-

 “Suck.” You demand, placing your thumb at the corner of his mouth.

 He stares at you, mouth agape as he snaps out of his daze. "I-" his eyes close and he shakes his head, before glaring at you with a façade of disgust. "No, no, I, uh," he laughs, nervously this time as you single-handedly unclasp your bra. The poor guy doesn’t know where to look. "I…can't do that." He clears his throat.

 "Sure, you can." you pout, tone nauseatingly sweet. You cup his cheek in your hand, thumb moving towards his lip as his eyes are glued to your chest as you hurl your bra to the floor- to his own surprise he doesn't try to shake you off. Maybe because your perfect tits are now sitting right at eye level, and he can’t help but absorb the sight of them for a moment.

 Sam feels himself breathe slightly faster, as your thumb rests on his bottom lip.

 "It’s not difficult." you whisper, gently hooking your thumb over his bottom teeth, pulling his jaw open slowly. Again, despite his small grunt of discomfort, he lets it happen, fascinated by what you’ve become.

 You gently push his mouth closed around your thumb with the rest of your hand, and Sam unconsciously jolts his hips upwards into…nothing. Oops.

 You snicker, and he finally looks up at you, eyes glassy- hypnotised. Though, he must notice you’re pleased because he blinks quickly and settles back into a frown. That alone is enough to send coils of warmth through you, ending up right where it matters most.

 “Just admit it. This whole taunting thing is really getting you going, isn’t it."

 Of course it is. But he’s not about to give you the gratification of vocally admitting it. He despises you. He should bite your thumb off.

 You narrow your eyes at him, sliding your thumb over his tongue. He grunts and tries to jerk his head away, but you hold him in place with a vice-like grip and he scowls.

 “Don’t be sour. This is all your own doing.” you chitter, and he rolls his eyes.

 God, what is she droning on about now, he thinks as you shift yourself forwards, lowering yourself a little.

 Sam feels himself swallow as your groin presses down onto his. You search for his eyes as he refuses again to make direct eye contact. “I mean, I didn’t force you to pop a boner.”

 Grow up. Get your heart rate under control, you’re not sixteen for chrissakes. It’s not like she’s touching your- oh.

 He sinks further into the chair as you roll your hips a little, tittering at his reaction.

 You slowly pull your thumb out of his mouth, rubbing it slowly along his bottom lip before you gently angle his chin up towards you. His eyes close, and you grin as you watch his eyelids flicker in what must be some serious internal conflict.

 “It’s a good thing I’m not much like you.” you lean further forward, pressing your chest onto his, skin lightly touching skin. “I’m slower. More patient.” You lower your hand, undoing the button then the zipper on his trousers. Sam watches, brows furrowed in a wonderful display of trepidation, embarrassment, and of course intoxication.

 Your hand snakes underneath the zipper, but you’re fixated on the lustful haze gradually thickening over his eyes. He writhes a little as your fingers stroke slowly over the remaining layer of material keeping him from being exposed. He stifles a gasp as you delicately begin to palm him.

 Christ. What is he supposed to do? He can’t get up, and he sure as hell can’t control the blood flow to his- oh lord. You squeeze hard, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to release the sound trapped at the back of his throat, so instead, he screws his eyes shut.

 You leer down at him, moving your other hand from his chin, toying with his soft curls. “I can hate you, but still show you love.” You pull back the elastic of his boxers and he watches with inner turmoil as you begin to lazily jerk him off. God, he’s hard.

 His chest rapidly rising and falling, and the sight of him, unable to move while you straddle him, makes heat continue to rise to your core- though you can’t let your arousal distract you just yet.

 “But you?” Your nails dig lightly into his scalp, and he flinches. Still silent, though. “You’re fuelled by lust. That’s why I always knew this was always going to work.”

 Your thumb glides over the head of his cock and he inhales sharply. Smudging a bead of precum back over the tip forces a small throaty groan from Sam, and you grin as his eyes flick up to you to check whether you heard. He knows you did…he’s just in denial.

 “As soon as you can sense you’re going to get your dick wet, all your logic just flies out the window.”

 “Sh…shut up.” He grumbles, leaning back into the chair, unsure of whether his eyes should be open or shut.

 “You shut up.” You retaliate; the hand that’s nestled into his hair suddenly tugs on the roots, extracting a startled moan from him as you pull his face harshly towards your breast.

 He grunts, trying his hardest to pull his head from your grip but he underestimates your strength.

 “Knock it off!” He groans, albeit slightly muffled, but you stand your ground and calmly continue to rub at his cock. His chest heaves in a mixture of frustration and urging- it’s amusing to watch.

 “Open wide, pretty boy.” You taunt, holding him as close to where you want him as possible.

 “I’ll bite your damn nipple off, you bi-ah! Ffffuck!”

 You almost allow him to call you a bitch again, but it’s nothing a swift grab of the balls can’t solve. “I can squeeze harder if you want, Samuel.” You sneer.

 “Go to hell-ahh, ow, Jesus!” You press with your nails, and he bucks into your grip to try and loosen the pressure. “Fuck-f-fine! Just stop that, will ya?” He pleads through gritted teeth.

 “Suck. It.” you force with full sincerity, both hands loosening their respective grip. He stares at you, breathless, scornful. If looks could kill, you’d be dead five times over.

 “Oh. Kay.” He snarls like a spoiled brat, before reluctantly leaning forwards under your scrutinising gaze. He closes his eyes, muttering something under his breath before he opens his mouth and latches grudgingly onto your nipple.

 You begin to massage his scalp as you look at each other; you with smug satisfaction, and him thinking up a million-and-one ways to make you suffer. You’re fully aware of this, but it only makes you more thrilled to be in this position.

 “Look at you.” you coo, humming in contented satisfaction. “Do it properly and I might return the favour…down here.” You watch his brows struggle to hold their frown as his cock gradually re-stiffens in your hand.

 Goddamnit, his shoulders and wrists are aching, and he wants nothing more than to hold you down and choke you out, but he can’t deny how good your hand feels wrapped around him. He can only imagine how much better your mouth would feel- Christ, if he’s going to get anything out of this at all, it’s the ability to shut you up for a few minutes while you suck him off, so he obeys. For now.

 You sigh as his warm tongue swirls around your nipple, his teeth gently grazing alongside.

 “That’s good.” You whisper, continuing to immerse your fingers into his hair- grip looser, but still spiked with warning. He lets out a long-held breath through his nose, eyes fluttering shut, and you take it as your cue to quicken your hand’s pace.

 And so, it goes on. He can hardly believe that this is really happening. Of all the things he’s gotten himself into, this was up there with the most ludicrous.

 As the next few seconds progress, you hear his breathing gradually get more erratic, feeling his head grow heavier in your grip. The bastard’s close.

 With all his might, he’s trying to keep quiet, but maintaining such composure is becoming more arduous by the second.

 You, on the other hand, are maintaining perfect control.

 The heat between your legs is progressing into something that would otherwise be insanely distracting, but your sole focus is on Sam’s increasing lethargy, and how your hand alone has gotten him to a somewhat obedient state. Even if it is reluctant for now. Go you.

 Gently tugging on his hair, you bring him away from you, tilting his chin up so he’s forced to look at you. He’s trying so so hard to remain stoic, but he’s flushed, lips parted with need, thighs tensing.

 You dip down, leaning into him so your lips are mere millimetres apart. “You’re close, aren’t you.” You tease, gripping harder as your other hand continues undoing the buttons on his half-opened shirt. His eyes squeeze shut, but other than his erratic breathing, he remains silent. You lean around to his ear, and he shifts, shoes scuffing against the plush carpet. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

 “Holy shhh-“ He cuts himself off, trying to concentrate.

 “I asked you a question, Sam.”

 Ignored. Again.

 You slow your movement.

 He tries to buck his hips into to your hand in a desperate attempt to gain the last bit of friction he needs to orgasm, but you’re too observant, and before he can quite get there, you let go completely, pushing yourself up and off him.

 Sam releases a guttural, close-mouthed growl of exasperation as he writhes around in the chair. “Of course.” He mutters, and as he tries to regulate his breathing, you kneel in front of him, a conceited look on your face.

 “All you had to do was answer me.”

 He wants to call you every cruel name under the sun, but that’ll ruin his chances of any further physical contact, and as much as he’d loathe to confess, he’s reached the point of no return.

 He pants up to the ceiling, a humourless smile wavering on and off. “All I had to-” He shakes his head, biting his lip in frustration. “You know what?” he glowers down at you. You raise a brow in interest. “As soon as I get off’a this fuckin’ thing, I’m gonna-”

 “What are you gonna do?” You sit up on your knees, separating them slightly, and as you smooth your hands up his thighs, he scowls. You squeeze provocatively, and his hips twitch. “Please don’t say you’re going to kill me. That’d be so unimaginative.”

 Hair twisted around your fingers, you pull it over to one side of your face, tilting your head until your lips are hovering over him. Eyes following your every move, his glare dissipates into a look of muted anticipation as you part your lips and wrap your fingers back around his shaft.

 “Go on.” You push, looking up at him through your lashes, and the sensation of your breath cooling over his sensitive cock is enough to make him squirm and swallow in want.

 “What?” he rasps.

 Entranced, again. Men.

 You swirl your tongue around the lower half of your mouth, allowing yourself to salivate, before you speak again.

 “Tell me all of the depraved,” you push spit over your lip, allowing it to roll down his length, mixing with another droplet of precum as you continue, “disgusting shit that you’d do to me if you got loose.”

 Jesus, you’re hot. It’s no wonder he’s practically leaking.

 “I’d-” He clears his throat in disgruntled disapproval of how hoarse he sounds, “I’d h-hold you down, and-”

 “Where?”

 “On the f-fuck-the floor. On the floor,” he spurts as you pull the head of his cock into your mouth. “Shit…I’d wrap my hand ‘round your throat, arms pinned above your head,” you set a steady pace, bobbing your head as he continues, and God, you’re soaking.

 “And I’ll squeeze, really fucking hard, ‘til you’re crying, beg-begging me to s-stop.” You hum, interest piqued, the soft vibration making Sam hiss. You hollow your cheeks, moving your hand so your mouth can engulf him as far as is comfortable to coax him on just a little more, savouring the salty sweetness that you draw from his slit. “Just before you p-pass out, I start fucking your tight little pussy, and stop choking you only to fuck your throat…just to shut you up for five fffucking seconds.”

 Jesus, he’s hot, too. No, what? He’s fucking rude!

 Watch it, Samuel.

 “Gonna…come all over your face, like the whore you are…fuck, I’m close.” He trails off into a near-whisper. You frown, but continue to swirl your tongue, evoking a deep groan from Sam. He can be a prick if he wants. Call you a whore, by all means. But there’ll be consequences.

 He bucks up; you feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag, eyes beginning to water, and whilst it seems almost counterintuitive, you let him do it again.

 It’ll make your next move all the more satisfying.

 Every curse that leaves his lips sends your core seizing in anticipation- You’re making him feel so so good, and he’s finally on the brink of admitting it, but your clit is fucking throbbing, and quite frankly you’re growing bored of him getting all the attention.

 You watch his torso tense as he holds his breath, and just as he twitches inside your mouth, you rapidly pull away.

 He growls through his teeth, specks of frustrated spit jumping at you as he angrily thrashes around. “No, you fuck- No!”

 What? Did he really think this was going to be some sort of ‘wam-bam, thank you, ma’am’ turn of events? Moron.

 Stepping back, you’re fascinated; engrossed by the way he proceeds to yell every vile insult in the book in your direction. It’s like you’re watching it in slow motion.

 A smirk tugs on the corner of your lips, and it intimidates him- it’s evident in the way he begins to lose his words and fails to maintain his steadfast eye contact.

 He lays his head back, sighing in defeat, chest heaving. “How much longer are you gonna keep this up for?” he breathes, not waiting for an answer because he knows you could keep this up for days if you had to. “It…” another huff- there’s something he doesn’t want to admit. “It hurts.”

 “Aw, does it?” You sniff, wiping your slightly swollen lips with your thumb.

 You leave him on a cliff edge for a moment, sauntering your way behind him, his gaze following you until you’re too far around for him to turn his head. What now?

 Dipping down to the shell of his ear, you whisper.

 “You know what else hurts?”

 His eyes are unnerved as he turns to looks up at you, awaiting your answer. You bite your lower lip, slightly weakening your smile as you brace your hands on the top of the chair’s back.

 “Your tied wrists being crushed by the weight of your own body.”

 He turns to look at you, and confusion sets in as your smile fades into a focussed display of effort. Your grip on the chair tightens, and as your knuckles turn pale, Sam’s eyes widen in realisation.

 “No, no, no, wait!” His plea falls upon deaf ears as you pull with all your strength, sending Sam falling backwards with a thud. His face contorts in pain, but he says nothing for a moment, merely breathing through clenched teeth as he tries to shift into a less agonising position. He’s unsuccessful. Get humbled, bitch.

 “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

 “Yep,” He whispers, hoarsely. Amusing. “Yeah, it- ow, okay. You’ve made your point.” You kneel, before laying down beside him. “Can you just-” He’s all high pitched and croaky.

 “What? Make you a little more comfortable? No.” You scoff, turning to look at him. His eyes plead with you, and you smile again.

 God, his wrists kill. The fucking wood from the chair’s spindles has begun to splinter and break, and it’s digging into his skin, not to mention the ache in his neck and shoulders from his body whacking against the floor.

 Hold on. The wood’s…splintering. Right near his wrists.

 “Hey,” You start, attracting his attention as you straddle him, leaning back on his thighs, ensuring your ass is grazing ever so slightly against his dick. He retains eye contact with you, waiting for you to continue with whatever you were about to say, and as you position yourself comfortably, his hips subtly move under you to stimulate himself in any way he can.

 “Do you think about me?”

 His face contorts in bewilderment; not at what you said- oh, he understands the question perfectly- but bewilderment at your ability to ask an insanely emotional question in such a bizarre situation.

 You can no longer ignore the heat in between your legs as you slip your underwear aside, cursing under your breath as you begin to stroke yourself. Sam cranes his neck, wanting to see everything you do, trying desperately to buck his hips into your ass cheek in an attempt to get himself off, despite the pain in his arms. You, of course, want to see him struggle, so you hover just shy of his reach.

 “No.” You chastise, and he actually whines, throwing his head backwards onto the floor in frustration. “Answer me.”

 “For god sakes, you’re killing me.” He pants. You raise an eyebrow in warning, continuing to smooth your wetness around you, cheeks significantly warmer than they were a few minutes ago. “Fuck- fine!” He attempts to readjust himself, whimpering at the pain radiating from his arms and how sensitive he’s become. “Sure. Sure, yeah, I’ve thought’a you.” He pants. In all fairness, he is telling the truth.

 You hum in acknowledgement as you bring your free hand behind you to fist at his cock again. A cluster of knots twist and turn inside of your abdomen at the sight of his stomach flexing inconsistently, alongside the sound of his desperate, hitched groans just escaping the back of his throat.

 He’s a fucking mess, and as you guide him towards your sobbing pussy, you don’t think you’ve ever found him more attractive.

 Fingers delicately tracing circles over your clit, you arch yourself downwards, crawling forwards so you’re hovering over his torso. Your necklace and hair tickle his chest, and as your lips linger just above his, you can hear his unstable grunting that he’s trying so hard to keep under wraps.

 “When have you thought about me, Sam?” You ask, voice lowered, with a huskiness to it that makes him close his eyes and swear under his breath as you hold him mere millimetres away from you.

 You don’t really care about whether he answers you or not. You’ve still got some interrogating to do, sure, but you’re not scared of him anymore so you’re just enjoying seeing him under pressure.

 “I…I don’t-”

 “Was it when you were balls deep in some other girl while I was doing recon on the treasure you stole from me?”

 Fuck, he adores how disgusting you’re being. How disgusting he’s made you. It’s thrilling, if a bit frightening.

 “Or- fuck- was…was it when you had your handsome little face nuzzled right into her cunt?”

 Jesus fucking Christ. His tip nudges its way into you, and he could come right now. But no, he’s got to pull himself together because he has to feel you. He shakes his head fanatically, eyes squeezed shut briefly before he continues to watch you, dying for friction.

 You’re so close, but you pull yourself away from your swollen clit, studying your glistening fingers briefly before shifting your focus back to Sam’s fervent stare. His eyes follow as you slide your fingers past your lips, smoothing them over your tongue. You beam down at him as he watches you taste yourself, full of an eagerness that he doesn’t seem to care about hiding any more. You release your fingers from your mouth with a pop, making sure your lips shine with your own arousal.

 “Bet I taste better, though.”

 Finally- fucking finally, you sink inch by inch down onto him, and as you draw a groan from him, you force your tongue into his mouth, making him taste you.

 To your surprise, Sam kisses you back with as much desperation as a man tied to a toppled over chair can, savouring the flavour he’s missed so much, and for a moment, it’s almost as if there’s no animosity between the pair of you.

 You feel so tight and warm around him, and he fills you out perfectly; but as you give yourself a moment to adjust, he feels something give around his wrists. His eyes open in realisation, and as his tie loosens from his hands, he debates lashing out, hurting you, getting his own back after all this insane shit you’ve put him through; nonetheless, as you finally begin to roll your hips, something in his psyche shifts. It instantly dawns on him that he…he wants this. All of it.

 So, he keeps his arms underneath him, despite the pain, because the deep breaths and strangled moans coming from you as you pull your lips away from him and rest your forehead against his are doing more for him than ibuprofen ever could. He’s missed being inside of you. Hell, at this exact moment, he’d go as far as saying that he’s missed you entirely.

 And he’s fucking livid because, whoop-de-do, there’s the regret.

 The two of you fall into a sort of rhythm, making your strange position work surprisingly well; the room fills with the sound of your intermittent whimpers and breaths and his pants of your name, and as you nip harshly at the lowest bird on his neck, he swears with an almost painful desire to touch you; If he could just grip your ass, your thighs, pull on your hair and clamp you down on top of him whilst he jackhammers into you, all to see your eyes roll to the back of your head, he could die a satisfied man.

 He could bring his arms round now, right? You’re so sweaty and entranced by riding him that you’d let him loose without some sort of stupid outburst, surely. It’s a risky move, but fuck, it’d be so worth it if you let him.

 A choked gasp escapes him as you slide him out of you completely before sinking all the way back down…and as you let out a languid moan, there goes his train of thought.

 “Oh, ssshit.” He hisses, eyes rolling back as you repeat the action over and over ‘til it’s almost painful. “Jesus, keep…keep doing that. Pl-please.”

 You still once you’ve got him filling you to the hilt, sitting up fully, hands braced on his thighs. Your chest heaves, but you can’t help but look down at him with a crazed smile.

 “Was…was that a please?”

 “I-” Sam takes a deep breath through his nose, face contorting into unsatiated ire as gravity works against him. “Come on, for chrissakes.” He whispers, desperate sibilance drawing spit from his lips.

 “God, look at the state of you. Pathetic.” Fingers finding your clit again, you can’t believe you’ve managed to condition him in such a way, and you revel in the way he glares at you with helpless irritation.

 “You’re pathetic, aren’t you?” God, he���s so conflicted and you can see it. You work your clit like your life depends on it, and your thighs begin to tremble. “Hah. Still think I’m a bitch, huh? Well, who’s the bitch now?” You bite your lip, laughing hysterically as your eyes flutter closed.

 Sam can only gawk at you in morbidly curious awe. Who are you? Had you been quashing this side of you the whole time you were together?

 No. No. He wants to finish. Needs to. He can’t get the friction he needs at this angle whilst your being so fucking selfish, but he doesn’t have to screw around waiting any more.

 He gave you what you wanted and you’re still denying him of the one good thing he’s allowed to take from this. That awe begins to dissolve into a rage as he thinks fuck this. You’ve had your fun. You can’t shoot him if he’s holding you down.

 “Too far, princess.” He mutters, with a sort of depraved smirk emerging on his lips that you’re too immersed in your own pleasure to see. You frown for a second, but he feels so good inside you, you keep rocking your hips back and forth, superbly stimulating your aching pussy from all angles.

 It’s not until you feel a harsh, stinging tug at the side of your scalp that you tense in fear and stop moving.

 Sam yanks your head to the side so harshly that it’s a surprise he doesn’t tear out a chunk of your hair. With a high-pitched cry, you’re sent rolling off him onto your back, and after taking a second to become fully aware of the fact that the fucker has gotten loose, you scramble onto your front, preparing to bolt for the gun laying on the bed. No, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen! What are you supposed to do now?! You can’t really use the fucking gun, can you?

 Sam massages his wrists and cracks his neck as he finally stands, before wrestling his shirt, shoes and trousers off in quick, irate succession. His chest heaves, and he snaps the elastic of his boxers back onto his hip, though you can see he’s still rock hard through the material. He’s also quietly enraged. That’s dangerous.

 “Pathetic, huh?” He sniffs, words full of spite as he stalks behind you.

 Adrenaline floods its way into your stomach as you reach the bed, but just as you reach for the gun to keep him at bay, a swift grab of the chain of your necklace has you flying backwards into Sam’s chest with a choked gasp.

 “You know what else is pathetic?” He holds you, one hand gripping you by the throat, the other arm snaking tightly around your waist. You can't kick your legs because they're clamped between the side of the bed and his own. Sam lowers his mouth to your ear as your eyes begin to water, not so much with fear, but with the frustration of your plan going to shit.

 “No back up plan.” He laughs. “Guess we’re both idiots, huh?”

 “Get…off.” You huff, exasperated as he pushes you face down onto the edge of the bed, pressing himself over you.

 “Sorry, sweetheart, you’ve got me all riled up, so, no can do.”

 You whine in response as you feel his bulge pressing into your ass cheek. You wriggle and writhe as much as you can, though after a moment, you don’t fail to notice that it’s the sides of your throat that he’s squeezing- not your windpipe. He’s not trying to harm you… Instead, history is about to repeat itself.

 At least this time it’s on a bed, not a freezing cold, stone counter.

 “Wanna know what’s really screwed up?” He says, hand tangled in your hair to keep you pressed down as your brain begins to feel fizzy. You whimper sporadically, trying hard to at least get your arms free from under your stomach before you lose all cognitive ability. “This is just gonna keep happening…isn’t it, you an’ me.” You feel the crotch of your underwear get pulled aside as his freed cock nudges at your cunt again, though this time, it’s harsh and selfish and it’s clear that Sam’s not really in a mercy-giving mood as he brutally shoves himself all the way into you, giving you no time to respond.

 “Jesus Christ!” You yelp, feeling as though your cervix has just been punched. “Shit, Sam-ah!” He pulls himself out of you, and does it again, and again, and you swear you hear him laugh over the increasing volume of your heartbeat, because he knows it hurts you, but lord help you, it feels fucking wonderful at the same time.

 “We’re both obsessed with each other, aren’t we?” He growls, and you want to retaliate, but he’s fucking all the air out of you that hasn’t already been taken by his hand around your throat, and you’re beginning to lose all sense of everything around you.

 “Fucking hate you.” He quickens the pace; rough, deep, his grunts sending you closer to the edge as you close your eyes, tears squeezing their way out. You can’t believe how easily you’re giving in to him- how quickly everything’s gone to shit, but you literally can’t form any thoughts as he hits you in all the right places. “Hate you.” He repeats, and you couldn’t agree more, “but-shit-can’t get enough ‘a you.” A series of long-held groans and pants escape you as he briefly pulls out of you, letting go of your throat to flip you onto your back. You’re too dazed to fight back in any way, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t fucking care anymore. That was what you wanted to hear. Sam wants you.

 He climbs up, hovering over you as he scoops you up and drags you further onto the bed, your arms splayed out beside you, head flopped to the side as you let blood flow back towards your brain. Your eyes fall on the pistol that rests just out of reach. Even if you could grab it, you can’t fucking use it, can you?

 “Hey,” he slaps your cheek, gripping your face to force your eyes in his direction. He holds you there, cheeks squished as his dick remains unmoving inside you. He’s flushed, vicious, and gorgeous- you stare up at him, anticipating, wanting. Just like him. “Look at that damn gun again, and I’ll shoot you myself.”

 “Good luck with that.” You mumble, cock-drunk smile on your face as you stare lazily up at him, content. He glowers at you, waiting for further explanation as he starts drilling into you yet again, letting go of your face to hike your thigh up further. “It’s not loaded.” You wheeze. “You can’t get enough of me.” You tease, fall into a series of intoxicated giggles as he…slows? No!

 Not ideal. Why did you fucking tell him about the gun?

 His eyes scrutinise your face. There’s no deceitful glint from you. No obvious sign of a lie. Just an anxious look that says ‘get on with it, you annoying bastard.’

 He realises that you never intended to shoot him- of course you didn’t. You couldn’t do it before. Besides…you want him, Sam wants you- it’s painfully obvious on both sides, but you’re two toxic idiots who constantly want to one-up each other; a relationship is impossible.

 He does, however, smirk to himself at the prospect of a toxic ex-partners with benefits situation, enjoying the sight of you trying to get him to move above you. You’re sick of his smug stare, so you attempt to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you. He complies, fucking you again, with a few nips to your neck.

 “So, you really did all this just to have your pretty little pussy filled up, huh?” He tries to confirm his theory in a way that matches the depravity of this entire situation, before he accuses you of being a ‘whore’ once again; you discreetly nod, but this time it doesn’t piss you off. In fact, it does quite the opposite as you feel the coil in your abdomen tighten drastically. You moan through your bitten lower lip, tits bouncing, sweat beading on your forehead as he cages you in.

 “W-wanted to hah-have the power for once,” You stutter between gargled moans as you feel his movement begin to become slightly unsteady. “To watch you sss-squirm, oh god.” You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him even deeper into you as he chuckles into your neck.

 “Power?” He laughs, “Jesus, girl, you’ve got all the fucking power. Want you…all the damn time.” He lethargically admits, head lifted, eyes closed as he focuses on his fast-approaching climax. “I’m-gonna come inside you. That what you want?” Is he genuinely asking? You can’t tell. But yes. Of course, that’s what you want, so you nod desperately, a whimpered plea escaping you.

 The sound of wet skin on skin and the desperation in your voice is all it takes for Sam to lose his mind once more, head falling back down into the crook of your neck as you drag him close to his peak for what feels like the thousandth time. He groans, the thought of such a long-awaited release pushing him over the edge, and all too soon he can feel himself twitching and spilling inside of you.

 The sudden warmth of his cum filling you, and the deep, almost animalistic groan that tumbles out of his mouth and vibrates into your skin pushes you over the edge as well, your arms unconsciously tightening around him, nails clawing into his back as your body quakes with long-anticipated pleasure.

 “Fuck, I’m-” you interrupt yourself with a rasped, muted scream as you come. He squeezes onto you as he empties himself fully, actions becoming languid and sloppy as he lets out one final string of curses. He feels you contract and spasm around him; every shudder and convulsion of your body and every messy, lurid cry that stutters out of your mouth as you orgasm causes him to smile between zealous breaths. God, he’s missed you.

 After a moment, Sam opens his eyes, seeing your head strewn backwards, throat bobbing as you gulp in warm air, your bare chest heaving from exertion. You stay, just for a second, basking in the afterglow as your respective heart rates force themselves back to a steadier state; Savouring a comforting warmth that you both fear will very shortly dissipate back into unsullied hostility.

 He slowly pulls himself up, sliding out of you with a wince. You feel this, and almost instantly snap out of your post-orgasm haze, breathlessly clambering away in fear of what he might do to you. You hadn’t planned for this. As you huddle yourself against a post on the bed, trying to think of what to do, you think he might actually kill you.

 Instead, he flops onto his back, and you stare at each other; on edge, ravished, rapt, and also a little pained from such a drawn-out release.

 Sam clearly senses your fear, somewhat disappointed by your sudden departure from his proximity. “I’m…not gonna do anything. I’m fucking spent, all right?” Your eyes shift warily around him as he takes on an uncharacteristic, and totally unanticipated-in-this-situation soft tone. “Look. I don’t know about you, but I think I’d prefer it if we just kept screwing instead of threatening to hurt each other twenty-four-seven.”

 Your brows furrow in anxious confusion. You agree. But you don’t want to say it. He’s a renowned trickster.

He tilts his head up to look at you before rubbing his hand over his face with an exasperated sigh. How can he prove his honesty to you?

 “You’ve got this room all night?” He finally asks, voice husky.

 “Yeah.” You respond, feeling a little safer at the fact that he’s still splayed out on the bed, visibly exhausted. This is all so, so strange.

 “Good.” He starts with a grin. “‘Cause I’m gonna tie you to that chair and eat you out til I make you squirt again.”

 Oh. Oh.

[pandorasword]

Hello

I'm wondering what type of kisses Hongjoong like to give to Chaeri?😉

What about chaeri, which are her favorite ones?🤭

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's masterlist

thank you so much for your request! Let me know if you enjoy it and if you think other type of kisses suit them well ♡

requests are open (even if it takes a while)

The kisses Hongjoong likes the most to give Chaeri

Hongjoong is a guy who finds most comfort in routine, domestic, daily interactions. Doing the work he does, the little time he spends at home, leaving his fame outside of it, is holy. This constant need for normality also spills over into his relationship with Chaeri, with whom he tries to live their relationship as any other couple not known by millions would.

Definitely, if he had to make a list of the kisses he prefers to give her, it would include lazy morning kisses.

Kissing her as soon as he wakes up, with his eyes still heavy from sleep, makes him feel incredibly grateful to have had her by his side all night long.

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Chaeri is a tough one, and Joong loses no opportunity to brag about this: his girlfriend won't let anyone mess with her. Nevertheless, he loves to make her feel that he is there for her whenever he thinks she needs him. He knows that words would not work with her, so he simply hugs her from behind and kisses the top edge of her shoulder, to let her know that "I got your back"

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Before an intense kiss, Hongjoong has the habit of tracing Chaeri's facial features with his fingertips. The kisses between them always begin softly just because the guy takes the time to admire her and imprint in his mind through the touch every detail and edge of her face. When, however, the tender moment ends and gives room to his insatiable desire of her, the spot he prefers to put his hands are her hips. He likes to squeeze them, to be able to pull her to him and her body to feel at one with her.

The kisses Chaeri likes the most to give Hongjoong

Despite her being bold and feisty, the kisses Chaeri prefers to give Hongjoong are the ones that radiate sweetness to her the most. Kissing him gently, without pretending to look sexy, injects her with a dose of relaxation and serotonin. It usually begins by kissing him on the cheek until it reaches his lips. Small, tender kisses broken by smiles and laughter. Between them there is never any awkwardness

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She LOVES kissing him in front of the rest of ATEEZ members. It amuses her so much to see him blush slightly, to hear the laughter of the rest of the boys teasing him, reminding him that before he met her he could hardly tolerate being touched. So she casually catches up with him when he is with everyone else, sits beside him, joins in the conversation, and then draws his attention back to her so she can kiss him

≫∘❀♡❀∘≪

Hongjoong sometimes overthinks, gets absorbed in his thoughts and worries that a group leader has to carry the burden of. She knows well, she has lived it through Namjoon, seeing him sometimes sink into his commitments and worries and come out exhausted. This is precisely why she tries to make that tiring task more tolerable, kissing him unexpectedly to bring him back to reality whenever she notices the first signs of worry on his face

≫∘❀♡❀∘≪

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr

[pradnyesh1008]

Greetings, dear readers! 🎩

Firstly, my sincerest apologies for the radio silence on the forum and Tumblr. I’ve been as elusive as a cat on a hot tin roof, haven’t I? Well, fear not, I haven’t been abducted by mysterious figures from the bushes… yet.

Now, onto the meat and potatoes of this message. I’ve got some news that’s hotter than a jalapeño’s armpit. I’m reworking the game! Yes, you heard it right. What was once a book is now morphing into a glorious hybrid of a book and a game. 📖🎮

But let’s set some expectations here. While I’m adding new choices, there’s a limit to how many I can add. There will be times when there will be long walls of text when it’s required for the story. If this doesn’t suit your gaming style, I understand. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and there might be another game out there that’s more your speed. So, don’t waste your time on something that doesn’t bring you joy. Life’s too short for that, right? 🕹

However, for those who are intrigued by the changes, let’s dive deeper. The MC I’ve created is a good person who just wants to do the right thing. But you have the power to change it according to your will. You’re not born a villain or a hero, you become what you choose. If you walk the line between both, you won’t be regarded as either. You need to take steps in every choice to be what you want. But remember, one man’s hero is another man’s villain, and vice versa. 🎭

I’m also reworking the game because some major events already happened in the game which lacked proper context. So, I’m reworking the whole prologue and some parts of chapter 1. The siblings’ personalities will be highlighted in these scenarios, but they’ll remain as polite as they were to the MC. I’ll also add their details in the Allegiances and Alliances menu. 📜

As for the previous prologue and some scenarios of chapter 1, they’ll be added as side stories in the Chronicles menu. I’m also going to create a map of the world and the continent, and for the empires and the kingdoms. But they’ll have to wait. 🗺

Now, where am I at reworking? I’ve already completed the prologue (about 3.9k words) and almost the new scenario in chapter 1 (now 8.2k words). The new chapter (chapter 2) is 15k done but I’ll release it later. First, I’m going to complete this reworking phase. 🚧

Regarding RO’s, there’s a big announcement. The special RO’s are now gender-selectable! I’ve had so many requests about that on Tumblr, so here you go. 🌈

Now, a bit of personal news. It’s my freshman year in college. This means I won’t be as active as I used to be on the forum. But don’t worry, I’m not turning into a lazy author. I’m just juggling a few more balls in the air. 🎪

When am I going to release it? I don’t know yet. I’m working on it, and I want to be fully satisfied before releasing it. But I’ll try to drop something next month. For now, I’m going to post sneak peeks on my Tumblr account. If you’re interested and want to follow the game’s updates, then please follow me on Tumblr. 🐾

So, that’s all folks! Keep your eyes peeled for more updates. And remember, in this world [I mean TGT world], the early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese. 🧀

(I am going to reply ASAP to everyone please forgive me for not doing it early. There are so many I need to filter them first but don't worry every Ask will be answered here. I promise you on my honour.)

Stay awesome! 🚀

[cadriox]

Sorry if i'm bothering you/ you dont have to respond, but how do you come up with cool backgrounds and ideas for your fanart drawings? Your stuff is super creative!! I was just curious because i draw characters in the same poses every day 😭❤

I check my tumblr notif every once in a few days but still missed this, so sorry if I was keeping you wait!

Thank you so much for the compliments! 💖💖💖 this makes me really happy, you’re not a bother at all.

Just speaking from my experience, but an artist usually have several ways of kicking off a drawing. If I start off drawing a character without actually knowing what I want to draw, I face the same exact problem as you where all the characters are just there! Standing! That isn’t a bad thing, however. I sketch a lot (roughly and fast ngl) so I immediately shift to the next drawing and considered those my warmups until a solid idea pops up. I love focusing emotions so I often start from drawing emotions on the character before coming up with scenarios for them.

Another way of kicking off a drawing is to start with a general idea. It can be a concept, a dialogue, or a composition.

Examples of said ideas I can recall:

•eremin kissing in a wide bloody background

•Eren holding armin’s face w that bloodied hand

•Flojean in a cell. Floch lives

•Gen with his hand as foreground

Concepts can start forming when you’re drawing so you keep adding in the details, or they can even change completely midway depends on you. No need to commit to it, these are just something to get your engine running!

I firmly believe that putting stories in art make it so much more special. My favorite artist is a comic artist, and they express so much and so well in even the smallest panel, their art is truly my inspiration! So as long as you got your story down and try to express it, every piece of your art is unique in its own way💖

(Also if you notice, all my backgrounds are suuuuper lazy made. I barely drawing them, most are a bunch of gradient and colors. But that’s the whole point, as long as the colors indicate what, where, and the atmosphere I don’t feel the need to draw them out!)

I find my art very rough most of the times, but the skill to let go “refining art” and prioritize dynamic and overall atmosphere are essential. It’s also always beneficial to practice drawing people on different angles and pose because it broadens your options for composition!

One last thing: everyone has a personal library in their head, whether it’s for stories, compositions, cool dialogues, lighting, character designs, music, or more. Your library was built according to your interests and what you consume. Personally I LOVE reading fanfics, watching films and series and animations of the genres I’m into. Watching more media will always give you ideas, once in a while you can go back to your library and think what would you like to see that suits your taste and haven’t been done yet.

OKAY, This replies become super long for some reason😭 I’m not the best person when it comes to explaining my thought process but I’ve always love art questions.

Anyway I hope this helps! May your drawing journey be filled with joy

[rey-jake-therapist]

Lost Souls: chapter 2

Chapter 1 is here.

Summary:

"She knew it was foolish, but in that moment, it made her feel like she was in control again. She didn't have any expectations for anything to come of it, but she didn't care. At best, he would ask for her number and never call her. At worst, he wouldn't even bother because she was just a girl he picked up in a bar. And that was fine. He looked at her so intensely that her knees went weak." What would Mina refrain from doing what her husband seemed to do so easily? That's exactly what Mina thinks as Jake, the handsome stranger she met outside, comes back for her. Quickly, things get steamy... Too bad her past will abruptly get in the way.

Notes:

I've got to put a TRIGGER WARNING on this one: there will be a flashbacks of a rape that Mina went through in this chapter. It will be very brief and I don't go into details.

"You came back!" Mina replied, amused, before settling onto a barstool. She took off her coat, deciding to stay a little longer after all, and pretended not to notice her new "friend's" eyes following the movement of her coat and lingering on her bare shoulders.

"Yeah, I realized I gave you my favorite lighter," he said nonchalantly. "I miss it."

"Do you want me to give it back? I can do that," Mina offered cheekily.

"Nah, it was a gift! But you can have a drink with me, so I know where it is when I need it," he replied. "If you want to, of course."

"It's not like I have better plans," Mina admitted. "But I've been trying to get a drink for half an hour now. Do you think you can do better?"

The man chuckled. "Nothing could be easier," he claimed.

Here, in the mottled ambiance of the dimly lit nightclub, Mina could see him more clearly. He was incredibly handsome, with prominent cheekbones and a sharp jawline. His sharp blue eyes looked deep enough to get lost in. He knew he was attractive, as evidenced by his irritatingly smug smile. But as much as Mina wanted to wipe it off his face, she also didn't want him to leave. Not yet, at least.

And yet, Mina knew the type. Most likely a jerk. Everything about him screamed "I'm broken, I need to be fixed," but she had met too many men like him when she was younger. They were all so charming, with eyes full of empty promises, who took but rarely gave and were too lost to care. Mina had shed a tear or two over men like him before deciding to avoid them at all costs.

However, tonight was special. Nothing mattered anymore tonight, and how could he hurt her more than she already was anyway? Besides, he seemed to know the bartender, who approached them, swaying her hips and smiling - at him, of course - and Mina desperately needed a drink, maybe a fix even.

"Jake, it's been a while!" The beautiful, dark skinned brunette swiftly collected empty glasses from the bar, cleaning as she went.

Mina mentally noted his name, Jake. She liked the sound of it. It suited him.

"Has it really been that long? Did you miss me?" Jake asked, his voice sugary sweet.

The bartender laughed, admitting that she had missed him a little. Jake ordered a whiskey on ice and nodded towards Mina, signaling for her to place her order.

"She's been waiting for two hours, she's dehydrated! What are you paid for?" Jake teased, receiving a playful tap on the arm.

"Says the guy who serves pricey wines to snobby customers at a fancy restaurant! I bet you make twice my salary with your tips, you lazy bum," the young bartender retorted. "You couldn't last a day in a place like this!"

"Ahem," Mina cleared her throat. She appreciated their playful banter, but she was thirsty and eager to be served at last. She ordered a beer from the bartender, who apologized for being swamped with work. She returned shortly with their drinks and then went off to attend to other customers. But before leaving, she told Mina,

"Watch out for that guy!"

Jake looked mildly offended, but Mina just shrugged and responded after taking a sip of her beer, "Well, I'm not perfect either."

Jake gave her an intrigued look, but he was wise enough not to question her. Instead, he suggested they clink glasses, which Mina gladly accepted.

"So, Jake," Mina began. "You're a bartender at a restaurant. Is it your day off, or have you just finished your shift? By the way, I'm Mina."

"It's my day off. But like Corinne said, I'm a clown with an easy, overpaid job," he admitted, sounding almost proud. "But enough about me. Mina, Mina... What a lovely name. I don't hear it often, but it sounds familiar," he added.

“It’s from Coppola’s Dracula,” Mina explained, feeling slightly embarrassed. Jake looked surprised, prompting her to elaborate, “It's my mother's favorite movie. She watched it while she was pregnant with me. It's about Mina, who's believed to be the reincarnation of Dracula's dead wife. My mom ate that stuff up,” she chuckled nervously.

“I remember that movie. There are lights of red in your hair.. Isn't the redhead girl called Lucille, or Lucy? Something like that?” Jake inquired.

“Yeah, Lucy! I suppose my parents didn't want to name me after Dracula's whore,” she laughed nervously again before taking another, larger sip of her beer.

Mina suddenly realized how long it had been since she last talked to a stranger. It was exciting and refreshing, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she sounded like a dimwit and that Jake would soon abandon her to find someone more intriguing to chat with.

She froze as she noticed something unexpected. When Mina paid attention to a man's eye color and his ring finger, it meant she liked him a lot, which was why her heart skipped a beat when she saw a ring on Jake's left hand.

“I didn't think you were married!” Mina feigned relaxation, but her heart wasn't in it. It was one thing to mess up her own marriage, but it was another to ruin someone else's.

“Married? Since when? With whom? Why didn't anybody tell me?” Jake asked, astonished but also amused at her claim. He seemed genuinely surprised, so Mina pointed to the large ring on his finger, which, upon closer examination, looked more like a signet ring than a wedding band.

“What's this?”

Jake quickly looked at his ring, then burst into laughter.

“Oh, this! Okay, it's on that finger, but it's not that type of ring. It's a gift from a young lady who's very dear to me, and I'm never going to take it off. I can't, I promised her.” He explained with a solemn tone.

“I see,” Mina whispered, not entirely satisfied with the answer. “And why aren't you with her instead of having drinks with a stranger in a bar?” She teased him.

Jake winced.

“Because it's already late, and she's probably asleep now, dreaming of princesses or whatever else twelve-year-old girls dream about,” he explained earnestly.

Mina groaned but couldn't help but laugh. Jake smirked and continued, “It's from my goddaughter Emily. She gave it to me two years ago to protect me. See, there's a cat! She says I'm like a cat because I never answer her father's calls but show up whenever I want to. She's a clever one!”

His smile grew wider as Mina's face turned red. She giggled and admitted, “I suppose I look foolish now.”

“No, you look jealous. It's alright. I like that,” he teased her, his smug grin returning. She rolled her eyes but didn't protest. She smirked and finished her beer instead. She was so thirsty that she had drunk it quickly, but she knew it wouldn't be enough.

“Speaking of…” he paused, mimicking the gesture she had made moments earlier. “…wedding rings, I have eyes too. What brings you here?”

Mina smirked and let out a long, weary sigh.

“It’s complicated,” she conceded.

Jake appeared receptive, even ignoring a phone call to give her his undivided attention. Mina shared fragments of her recent history, carefully chosen. She recounted her husband's infidelity and the searing betrayal she had experienced due to the unique circumstances. She also confided in him about their dysfunctional relationship and her urgent need for distance. She even admitted she wasn't entirely certain she wanted to return home anymore, not after the conversation she had had with Johnny earlier. She withheld certain details she had only divulged to Keisha. Disclosing all these facets of her life to a stranger was much easier than she had anticipated, Mina realized with a sense of satisfaction. Perhaps it was due to the numbness she had felt after her last conversation with Johnny, but she no longer felt anything at all. It was so liberating...

Jake was a good listener. He abstained from offering any commentary or guidance, which she was grateful for, but suggested that she might need something stronger than a beer.

"I loathe whiskey if that's what you're implying," Mina retorted, wincing at the thought.

Jake leaned closer and whispered with a seductive tone that sent shivers down her spine, "Nah, that's not what I had in mind. Do you trust me?"

Mina arched her eyebrows.

"Trust you? Trust you for what?"

Jake didn't respond, a behavior she instinctively identified as his modus operandi.

He summoned Corinne again with a commanding voice, already shouting for the second time. Even though the bartender cast an irritated look his way as she was already serving other patrons, she hastened over to them. Mina smirked, still pondering what Jake had in mind.

"Still here?" Corinne teased Jake. "Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend by now on Valentine's Day?! It's already past eleven, her shift must have ended by now!" She teased him, before winking at Mina. Mina was slightly disconcerted to learn that he had a girlfriend, but Jake's flustered expression was too comical not to chuckle.

"What girlfriend?" Jake queried, feigning ignorance but sounding unconvinced.

"You're asking me? Simone told me that you have a new girlfriend from the restaurant! I trust Simone when it comes to you. Plus, I know you've slept with all your coworkers, so it was just a matter of time before you banged the newbie!" Corinne added, while serving another client, who had taken advantage of her availability to order a drink.

“Ouch, bad idea…”Mina couldn’t help but comment on the ongoing discussion between Corinne and her new friend.

“You know Tess?” Corinne asked with curiosity.

Mina wondered for a few seconds what made her think that and looked puzzled, then shook her head and replied after an embarrassed giggled,

“Absolutely not, I’m not even from here. I was just saying, it’s always a bad idea to date a coworker. For me, at least! I never do it. It’s surely fine as long as everybody’s having fun, but it can quickly turn a workplace into hell on earth. I saw it happen too many times!” She added.

"Thank you!” Corinne exclaimed, before pointing a varnished nail on Jake. “See? It’ll cause you trouble someday. But don't come here to complain, ‘cause I’ve warned you!”

As Jake scoffed but side-eyed Mina, who grinned mischievously in response, Corinne continued,

“Anyways, Simone: she said that girl had spent the year chasing you, what took you so long? Oh, and that you'd probably break her heart. She also said it wouldn't be her problem, this time. Are you at odds with Simone? She seemed pretty upset a couple of days ago…

"Simone's full of shit," Jake grumbled. His smug smile was gone and he looked uncomfortable. "If Tess was my girlfriend, I would be with her, it's that simple. We're just having fun. That's it! Now can you be a doll and bring us two shots of tequila with lemon and salt? Please?" He then asked, slightly aggressive, and visibly nervous.

Corinne must have felt the sudden tension he displayed, as she grew cold and served them what he asked.

Mina, who had wisely remained uninvolved in the strife that opposed Corinne and Jake, raised her eyebrows when she heard his order.

"Tequila?" She asked, an ounce of skepticism in her voice.

"Yep! That's why I asked if you trusted me. I intend to get you really drunk tonight because my gut tells me you need that, but I need you to be comfortable or… it won't work," Jake explained, mischievous. He then took off his jacket, revealing a white t-shirt and an athletic torso.

"Honestly, it's way too early to trust you yet. Good luck for getting me drunk though, I'm a tough one,"

Mina then smirked and licked the skin between her thumb and her forefinger before sprinkling a small pinch of salt onto this area. Jake imitated her. They both licked the salt and raised their glasses to clink, downed their tequila shots and bit their limes, eyes locked on each other. Mina always enjoyed the sourness of the lime on her tongue and how it broke with the bitterness of the tequila. And she was enjoying Jake too, a little bit too much.

Another round of shots followed, then a third one, a fourth, a fifth... They chatted about everything and nothing: Mina especially caught herself being chatty about her current situation, while Jake remained very quiet about his.

After each round he came closer to her and almost never broke eye contact, except to look at her lips. His eyes, made of the deepest blue, seemed to gaze directly into her soul and made her feel weak, in a strangely good way. She knew now he wanted to kiss her as much as she did, and enjoyed the delicious feeling of being desired but wanted this moment to last as long as possible. Everytime she met someone she liked, this moment between the first words exchanged and the first kiss was the moment she preferred. There was nothing at stake yet, nothing life changing anyways. It was a comforting realization that if they parted ways now, no harm would be done.

Perhaps, in the future, they would reflect on this brief encounter with fondness. The moment was a respite from the pressures of life and the uncertainty of what the future held.

Mina felt a strong urge to touch Jake's bare arm as it casually rested on the bar, but an invisible string seemed to hold her back. She relaxed a bit when Jake pointed out her inhibition and began to giggle. “Mind you, I’m still not drunk. Only jetlagged!" she claimed, before laughing out loud as Jake put on a skeptical face. She revealed that she had been working as a waitress at a fancy restaurant for six years, but had decided to pursue a professional reconversion. After much contemplation, she had decided to return to her abandoned informatics studies and found a school. As she had experience in hacking, she explained to Jake that it seemed only logical to specialize in cybersecurity and pursue “a more lawful path”, as she proclaimed with a touch of mock solemnity in her voice.

It seemed to impress Jake, especially when she disclosed that she had hacked into her school's computer network at fifteen to lower her ex-boyfriend's grades after catching him cheating on her. Not stopping there, she had also exposed the illicit pictures stashed on her math teacher's hard drive, involving underage students.

“I would have never guessed. You don't strike me as a computer geek at all,” Jake pointed out.

Mina scoffed. “You mean I don't fit the stereotype? We're not all like Sheldon from Big Bang Theory!” She playfully teased him. “My stepfather’s a computer engineer and a genius who once hacked the FBI just for kicks. So, I don’t really have much credit; he taught me… Everything.” She emphasized the word ‘everything’, but Jake was way too impressed to catch on.

“He did what, for kicks?!”

“It was a bet with a friend,” Mina responded, shrugging.

No longer wishing to dwell on the topic of her stepfather, she abruptly turned to the bar and, after a few minutes of waiting, ordered another round of tequila shots. Jake seemed to sense she was shutting herself down, so he proposed they head to the lounge for a smoke. Mina cheerfully agreed. She knew she would quit smoking again eventually, but now was not the moment to exercise prudence.

The smokehouse was as crowded and smelly as Jake had described it. It was so cramped that moving without bumping into someone was difficult, and Mina had to apologize three times before they found a corner where they could smoke and talk quietly.

Jake stood so close to Mina that she could still smell his intoxicating cologne. His presence and the way his deep blue eyes stared into her soul were captivating. Mina still had Jake's lighter, so she lit his cigarette. They exchanged a brief smile as they puffed on their cigarettes, but Jake's phone started ringing again. Although he groaned and seemed reluctant to answer, Mina saw the name 'Tess' on the screen and felt empathy for this girl she didn't know at all.

"Why don't you pick up? You could say that you're busy and not interested in seeing her, perhaps? She might be worried about you," she said with a voice she wanted to sound severe.

Jake expressed his disapproval with a scoff, although Mina could sense a hint of regret in his sour expression.

"She shouldn't," he grumbled. Despite his reluctance, he eventually answered his girlfriend's call after an exasperated sigh.

"Yeah, I missed your call. Sorry... I'm not going to the Home bar tonight, babe. No, I'm at home. I was just dozing off. Why? There's music playing because I turned it on. Are you doubting me now? ‘Cause this shit ain’t gonna fly with me, you know that!"

Mina found it amusing how Jake was trying to avoid his inquisitive girlfriend's questions, but she suddenly remembered her obligation to her best friend and her baby.

"Christ! I forgot about my best friend and her baby," she whispered as she slapped her forehead.

Jake looked confused, but he was still busy arguing with the girl over the phone. Mina pulled out her phone from her bag and switched it on for the first time since she had returned to the Omega Lounge.

She dreaded what she might find on her phone. She had hung up on her husband and hadn't given him a chance to call her back. She knew that there would be at least one, if not several messages waiting for her, but she wasn't in a rush to find out.

The first text was from Keisha, who informed Mina that everything was fine and that she, Ewan, and Zahra were back home. Mina felt slightly guilty for not responding to Keisha's message, but she promised herself that she would make it up to her friend in the morning.

The second message was a voicemail from Johnny. Mina took a deep breath and listened to it while Jake was still on the phone arguing with his girlfriend. She thought she was prepared for the worst, but she had clearly underestimated Johnny's anger. The atmosphere in the smoking lounge was hot and stifling, but Mina couldn't help but shiver as she heard her husband's voice tearing down their marriage, calling it a "scam," and regretting the day he had met her. He also said he was happier with Lyla than with her, claiming that it was only natural for him to laugh and communicate with someone, something he had always found impossible to do with Mina. Johnny repeated that he had never been happier or felt more free than he did now that she was gone, and urged her to stay in New York and never come back.

Despite knowing that Johnny was only trying to hurt her as revenge for her sudden departure, Mina was overwhelmed with emotions and tears streamed down her face. She wanted to stop the pain, but her fingers seemed frozen on her phone. When the voicemail finally ended, and the artificial female voice informed Mina that there were no new messages, she wordlessly dropped her phone into her purse.

" The child is grown

The dream is gone

I have become comfortably numb, " she heard Pink Floyd sing in her head.

Mina finally became aware of Jake's genuine concern as she turned to him, her eyes now awash with tears. She realized he must have finished his conversation long ago, and her heart sank as she wondered for how long he had watched her.

"Is everything okay? Did you get bad news?" Jake inquired, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Mina recoiled and stepped back, overcome with emotion. She turned away from him, ashamed of her tear-stained face. She had hoped to keep her emotions in check, but Jake's kindness had opened the floodgates, and she began to sob uncontrollably.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she choked out between sobs. "Please watch my things. I'll be right back."

Mina did not look back to see Jake's reaction. She knew it was risky leaving her purse with a man she barely knew, but her intuition told her he was not a thief and wouldn't leave before she returned to the smokehouse. Being alone in this unfamiliar place scared her more than the thought of her money being stolen. She rushed through the crowded nightclub, determined to find the bathroom.

As she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, Mina was appalled to see mascara streaks running down her cheeks, giving her the appearance of a haunted, grey-eyed witch. She quickly wiped away the smudges and tried to tame her wild curls, which she hated. They reminded her of him - the man who used to love them. She scrutinized her cleaned face in the mirror, taking note of her striking features - her glamorous curls, her perky cheeks, her full lips and her big grey eyes made her undeniably pretty. Mina knew Jake would eventually invite her to his place for a final drink, but she was unsure if she was ready to take that leap. What seemed so simple to others always terrified her, raising questions she wasn't sure she was prepared to answer.

Mina longed to retrieve her phone from her bag to listen to Johnny's voicemail again, but she remembered she had entrusted her purse to Jake and shook her head in frustration. The realization that she might lose not only her means of payment and identification but also Keisha's and Johnny's phone numbers paralyzed her. She had never bothered to memorize Johnny's number or backup her contacts online. If Jake decided to abscond with her purse, she would be stranded and forced to file a complaint that would most likely be futile. She imagined herself on the street, standing at her apartment door, begging Johnny to let her in and confessing she had made yet another mistake. She recalled his harsh words echoing in her mind - "You always think you're better," "Find someone who loves you more," "I knew her better in two days than you in three," "You say we're toxic, but you're toxic," "Don't bother coming back…"-

Suddenly, Mina was jolted from her reverie by the sound of female voices, signaling the arrival of other women in the bathroom. Without a second thought, she retreated into one of the stalls and waited for the strangers to leave. But to her dismay, it soon became evident that the young women were here to stay, snorting cocaine away from prying eyes. Hearing these familiar sounds stirred up old demons in Mina, reminding her of a time when she would take anything that could be snorted or injected, without any regard for herself or others.

The temptation to join in became too strong, and she couldn't resist leaving the stall to ask the girls if they had any left to sell her. She explained that she didn't have her purse, but her boyfriend was waiting for her in the smoking lounge with it. She offered to pay them there, and to her surprise, one of the girls, a brunette, offered her the remainder of the cocaine with a smile, insisting she didn't need the money.

Mina felt a twinge of guilt as she walked back to the lounge, knowing she was on the brink of falling back into her old habits. But as she caught sight of Jake's handsome face in the crowd, all her reservations dissipated. He was smoking, as usual.

"Hey, I'm back!" she exclaimed, relieved to see him.

Jake teased her, "Long time no see. If you hadn't left your stuff here, I would have thought you ran away!"

Mina couldn't help but smile, and impulsively snatched the cigarette from his mouth and put it in the ashtray.

Taken aback, Jake didn't resist when Mina pulled him towards her and kissed him. It was a brief, impulsive kiss, but the delighted surprise in Jake's eyes made it all worth it. She knew it was foolish, but in that moment, it made her feel like she was in control again. She didn't have any expectations for anything to come of it, but she didn't care. At best, he would ask for her number and never call her. At worst, he wouldn't even bother because she was just a girl he picked up in a bar. And that was fine. He looked at her so intensely that her knees went weak.

"I've been wanting this for a while now," Mina admitted with a tender smile.

"I've been wanting this since the moment I saw you," Jake whispered huskily.

He brushed her lips gently, teasingly, sending shivers down her spine. She knew he was testing her. As the tip of his nose brushed her cheek, Mina opened her mouth, inviting him in. Emboldened, Jake's arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in his warmth. He pushed her roughly against the wall, and Mina moaned as he deepened the kiss. She clung to him, running her hands under his shirt and across his soft, sensitive skin. He shuddered and grabbed her hands, raising them above her head.

"Slow down, we're in a fucking smoking den," Jake whispered, followed by a short laugh.

Their breaths were heavy and loud as a growing fever took over them. Jake pushed her against the wall, still keeping her hands up and locked, and gave her another passionate, deep kiss. He wasn't just kissing her but devouring her like a feisty meal. His lips tasted of cigarettes, whiskey, and danger. Mina almost lost herself when he began to focus on her neck, licking and biting it. He was everything she had tried to escape from for years, but it was too late to turn back now. Not that she wanted to.

Recalling what she had in her pocket, and suspecting that Jake was a user, Mina gently pushed him away and, showing him a naughty smirk, revealed the small pouch of cocaine given to her by the girl she met in the bathroom.

"Hey, look what I found... interested?" she asked.

Jake raised his eyebrows and claimed he did not expect her to be into drugs, to which she replied that she was full of surprises. He then stated that he knew of a place where they would not be disturbed, and before Mina could ask where it was, his knuckles were sliding against hers and her hand was in his. She felt a warm rush over her whole being as he pressed his palm against her own and led her through the dancing crowd to a staircase she had not noticed before. She attempted to get an explanation from Jake, but he only encouraged her to follow him, his hand still holding hers.

They found themselves in front of a door that Jake opened and closed behind them as Mina entered. The room was dominated by a large table with eight chairs that occupied almost all of the space. Only a green plant in the corner provided a bit of cheer, but it was clearly parched. Mina watched Jake remove his jacket in silence and toss it onto the nearest chair back.

"It's a conference room," Jake announced. "They sometimes rent it during the day to companies that require a venue for their meetings," he explained.

"I thought you didn't like it here, but it seems you know every dark corner of this place!" Mina scoffed. She took off her coat slowly, relishing the sensation of his hungry eyes devouring her.

"I didn't say I wasn't offered a tour once or twice," Jake retorted.

"By Corinne?"

"Possibly…"

Jake grasped her by the waist and pulled her firmly against him. Mina squirmed, but suddenly her husband's face appeared in a corner of her mind, condemning her. Mina froze and shied away from his lips. Then she remembered that Johnny had done far worse. Keisha's advice was: “have fun”. Keisha would probably not approve of her using what she had in her pocket, but she was not present to stop her.

Mina shook the small pouch of white powder under Jake's nose.

"Guests first!" she quipped, with a small smile at the corner of her lips.

Jake chuckled, but took the pouch and used his credit card to prepare two lines. He then snorted the first one before making way for Mina. She hesitated for a few seconds, too brief for Jake to notice that she was not as confident as she seemed, but enough for her to convince herself that she was in control. She had quit drugs seven years ago when she met Johnny, who had been a tremendous support in helping her stay away from drugs. There was no danger of her relapsing. Not for one line... She wanted that line, and she wanted that man.

Everything will be fine.

As Mina swiftly snorted her line of cocaine, she sensed Jake's eyes fixed on her. The sensation of the drug infusing into her bloodstream was all too familiar, as if she had never stopped doing it. She felt instantly rejuvenated and more self-assured.

Suddenly, she gasped as Jake lifted her hair and delicately caressed the small hairs at the back of her neck. She knew he was teasing her, but she relished the attention. A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine when his finger traced a line down her bare back, only to be halted by the barrier of her synthetic dress.

"You've got a tattoo down there," Jake murmured, his breath hot on her neck. "Is it a cherry tree?"

"It's a cherry branch," Mina replied, smirking. "It runs all the way down to my lower back."

"Nice, can I see it?" he asked, toying with the zipper of her dress. Mina's heart raced as she gripped the table with her hands, but she still answered weakly, "Sure..."

She heard Jake's breathing quicken as he unzipped her dress and pulled it apart to reveal the tattoo it concealed. He traced the pink flowers and followed the light brown line of the branch. Mina bit her lip in excitement, allowing Jake to continue. He pressed his body against hers and slid a hand under her dress to caress her thighs, while his other hand went to her shoulder and slowly slipped the straps of her dress off. Mina bit her lip harder, shivers running down her spine as Jake's fingers followed the curves of her body down to her hips.

"Your skin is so soft," Jake whispered into her ear with a deep, hoarse voice, before his mouth ravaged her neck with sudden, passionate kisses. Mina let out a cry of pleasure, which turned into a long moan when he pulled her hair to gain better access. She squirmed and pushed her hips against his erection. Jake growled and bit her tender skin, then slipped a hand into her panties. Mina stopped him, however, and turned to face him, eager to touch him as well.

She realized his eyes were a dazzling shade of cobalt blue as he looked at her breasts and whispered, "You're gorgeous..."

They exchanged a brief smile before Mina pulled his face towards hers and kissed him passionately. She then cheekily asked, "You don't expect me to be the only one like this, do you?"

Mina fiddled with Jake's shirt, indicating that she wanted him to take it off. He chuckled, but complied, revealing a torso and arms covered with tattoos and inscriptions. Mina blushed and ran her fingers over his silver necklace, stroking his chest hair before drawing him close and kissing his neck with the same fervor he had shown her. Jake moaned with pleasure, sliding his hands back under her dress and pulling her panties down to her feet. Mina gasped with excitement as he lifted her effortlessly onto the table.

"Spread your legs," Jake ordered.

Panting, dripping wet, Mina obeyed without a word.

"Good girl," he murmured, smirking.

"Don't be so sure of that…"

Jake’s smile grew larger. He dove on her to steal a kiss. Grinding her against the table in a tight embrace, he then put a hand between her legs. Feeling her wetness, he groaned with satisfaction and toyed with Mina’s desire for a few seconds, visibly enjoying the sight of her squirming and the strangled sounds that came from her mouth. Her moans intensified when he slid first one, then two fingers inside of her. She circled his waist with her legs and bit his shoulder to smoother the waves of pleasure that shook her to the core while he kept circling her clit. When she felt the orgasm coming, she pulled on his hair while her nails digged on his flesh so hard Jake let out a small scream followed by a brief laugh.

And then, as unexpected as it was unwelcome, the first flashback came.

The sound of another laugh, a way more sinister one, followed with the vision of her stranded on the hood of a car, helpless and terrified. ‘No!’

Mina blinked to chase the vision away. She kissed Jake and whispered in her ear,

"Fuck me,"

Jake met her words with a grunt of approval but kept caressing her, letting Mina unbuckle his belt and drop his pants to reveal his thick hard member. She took it in her hand and started stroking, making him moan and groan while he looked for a condom in the pocket of his jeans. Jake then pushed her down the table and lied on top of her, panting and grunting. Mina gasped, once again taken aback by the violence of his moves. She didn't dislike it, but she was once again unpleasantly distracted by another flashback.

Her shirt brutally ripped off her chest. A slap on the face, and injunction:  "Shut up!"

Mina tried to close her eyes and shook her head to kick the memories out. But it didn't work; soon, she couldn't tell if she was still in the conference room of the Omega Lounge with Jake, or battling with two men in an isolated parking lot in Los Angeles. She felt Jake's hands on her but could only hear a voice that haunted her nightmares for weeks,

"Hold that bitch down ".

" No," she whined. She begged, swore she wouldn't tell anybody. But he wouldn’t stop hurting her. He had told his friend he'd be next. "Just hold her down!"

"No, please stop it!" she screamed, forgetting where she was. “Just stop!!" She yelled again, trying to push an invisible enemy away.

Dumbfounded, but quick to react, Jake stood up immediately and retreated, taken aback. When Mina recovered her senses and saw his face showed no anger but only deep concern, shame took over her as she swiftly jumped off the table. Jake asked what happened but she shut him down and put her clothes back on as quickly as she could, all while avoiding eye contact with him. She was mortified, unable to speak after what was one of the most embarrassing moments in her entire life.

"Mina, don't…"

"I'm sorry, it's not your fault. I'm so, SO sorry," Mina abruptly interrupted Jake, before storming out of the conference room. She stubbornly ignored Jake as he tried to stop her and ran down the stairs so fast she almost missed a step. 

Barely conscious, Mina tried to run through the merry crowd of the Omega Lounge, but was slowed down by the dancers who bumped into her. She was crying and probably looked like a freak, Mina thought, but she didn't care about that now. She only wanted to leave the damn place but was still too disoriented to find her way out. The beats of the music resonating in her head were so loud it gave her a headache, and her head was spinning. Mina soon felt sick as if she was going to puke and the shivers on her arms made her realize at last she had left the conference room without her coat. She let out a groan of frustration as her empty hands also told her she had left her purse there. .

"I just need some fresh air. I'll go look for them after. Jake will probably be gone.

Feeling her cheeks were wet with her tears, she calmed down and dried them, then spotted the main entrance of the nightclub and walked decidedly towards it.

Just as she was going to open the large heavy door guarded by the tall and hulking Tony, a hand firmly grabbed her arms and stopped her progression. Taken aback, she abruptly pulled away and turned around to find herself in front of Jake, whose handsome face showed concern and disbelief.

"He must think I'm crazy,"

Mina still refused to meet his eyes, certain that she would die of shame if she did.

"Look I said I'm sorry," she muttered between clenched teeth, "I don't know what to tell you! It has nothing to do with you. I just want to go home now." She bit her lower lips as she realized she had said the word 'home', despite knowing that where she was coming back to was nothing like 'home'.

Tony, Keisha's friend who Mina had met the first time she had entered the Omega Lounge and had told her she could ask him anything, put himself between her and Jake and asked her, not before throwing a cursory glance at Jake who rolled his eyes,

"Are you alright? Does he bother you?"

Mina opened her mouth to speak, but was abruptly interrupted by Jake, who ignored Tony and addressed her with undisguised impatience.

"I thought you might need these," he said, proffering the black coat and handbag he had been carrying under his arm. They belonged to Mina, and she felt her face turn crimson with embarrassment. Jake could have simply left her things on a chair and forgotten about her, but instead, he had chased after her.

Mina was flabbergasted and stuttered out an incoherent apology as she put her coat on. She stared at the floor, praying that it would open up and swallow her whole. However, Jake's tone softened, and he said, "You need food."

Mina was puzzled and asked, "What do you mean?"

"When was the last time you ate something?" Jake replied, his concern evident.

Mina scoffed but then had to admit that she hadn't eaten a proper meal since she had boarded the plane to New York. "I don't know… Does a cookie for lunch count?" she asked with a tired voice.

The shadow of a grin passed over Jake's lips. He suggested that she head to a nearby burger joint, which he described as "not bad." After an awkward silence, punctuated only by the loud electronic music blasting through the nightclub speakers, Jake wished Mina a good night and left the Omega Lounge.

Mina stood dumbfounded for a few seconds and stared at the large entrance door, her mind blank. Then, driven by an impulse, she left the nightclub and spotted Jake's tall, lean silhouette already far away from the Omega Lounge. She didn't know why, but she ran after him.

"Jake, wait!" Mina shouted, running as fast as she could to catch up with him.

Let me introduce you to the characters Mina and Jake

Chapter 3 is up here!

[audiovisualrecall]

Wanted to go in to work 'early' - I'm scheduled for 10am today - bc I have a special order being picked up at 1pm sp it'd be nice to have a little extra time to dedicate to that. But going in early means if I leave on time I'll be leaving 'early' according to my scheduled time, and that means it'll cost me UPT, and my balance of upt isn't in surplus mode anymore. (Which makes me anxious just like how using up pto for days I've requested off means my balance is lower now and that makes me anxious, but I can't just save them both up just in case...but upt is used for lateness as well as leaving early, and for calling out if I don't use pto for it, and I'm late frequently when I'm not going in early, so I need the upt but still). So Id have to see if my boss could like adjust the schedule to match the start and end times to the times I actually worked today, and that just sounds exhausting trying to convince him I need to go in early and also need him to do this bc I don't want to be losing upt when I come in early. Like he would just be like anita can do the order...when like, no, the customer only told me yesterday the final details and I need to at least SHOW anita what the customer wants And text a photo of the first arrangement to the customer on her request (which I said i would do bc she's a regular, same reason i took the order at all so close to deadline) so I need to be there before she can start on them. It's too exhausting to explain that to him, just exhausting, no. And the other part he would say yes and then forget to do it and I'd just end up losing tbe upt anyway bc whatever.

Anyway, so I decided it's too exhausting to deal with and I wanted more sleep, but now it's 8:30 and I'm still in bed but didn't actually get much more sleep bc thinking abt all this kept me awake, and I now have an hour before I have to go and I waste so much money on uber/lyft and I hate it but I have no fucking free time to taking driving lessons okay. And I'm too lazy to get up early and take the bus bc I'd have to leave 2.5 hrs early or earlier even and that's exhausting too. And I'm so tired of this job, genuinely I'm tired of it. But the health insurance is nice so far. My medication is covered and approved quickly and I get dental and vision coverage and the coat is taken out of my pay check so I don't have to remember ro pay any bills for any of that, it's good coverage and costs way less than my old plan and is so much better than the state plans I would've gone for if I left. And I could in theory find another job that offers health insurance, but you can't exactly search through employers and job listings with health insurance benefits as a filter, and no guarantee of what insurance company or how good the plan would be, etc. And I also Just got on the plan from work, I still have to finish setting up the dental user account so I can use it for dentist visits, haven't even looked at the vision stuff yet, so I don't want to have to try to find something else and switch to something new. But gd am I tired, I'm tired of being in charge of my little subdepartment and I'm tired of corporate bs and changes that make things worse and how my brain is not at all suited to what I have to do for my job, genuinely, and how that means I constantly feel like I'm failing, or I actually DO screw up, like a lot, I'm exhausted and I only like the flowers part of it, but I can't step down bc there's no one else to do it.

Also I'm totally getting my period today and I hate that, too.

I don't want to go in to work at all, now. I don't want tp go at all. I can't quit tho bc health insurance!!! And I have to go in today to do this damn special order. Bc I'm dumb

And i'm going to be late if I don't get up out of bed now

And I really don't want to

At all